The Onigiri Tastes Best Under the Summer Sun
by thekillerdynamo
Summary: A story chronicling Sakuno's misadventures as she works her first summer job and interacts with various schools while trying to retain her precious, precious sanity. The final battle begins! Who will triumph? Will it end with a bang or a whimper? STORY COMPLETE.
1. Adventure 1: Atobe, Bento Thief!

_Achtung! I'm only gonna say this once, so you peeps listen UP!: Prince of Tennis is property of Takeshi Konomi, not mine . This is just for fun and I make no money off this. _

_With the exceptions of normal titles (san, sama, buchou) and some terms, this story won't employ much Japanese. But if you like you can supply Sakuno's 'eto', 'mou's and 'ano's in your head. Use your imagination, Jimmy-Jimmy! It's fun! Also, this Sakuno (15 years old now and just having finished middle school) will be a mixture of her anime and manga appearances—the events that happen in the anime will have occurred to her but she will also act more like her manga personality, which is essentially the same but more thoughtful and mature than her anime portrayal. Manga Sakuno is pretty spiffy! I'm more familiar with the manga anyway, so I'll take my cues from it when possible.  
_

_This story takes place in the future, so characters will occasionally act in a more mature fashion and there may be very slight changes in personality here and there. They're not OOC, they're OLDER! (this is the future-story author's Nuremberg Defense). Hopefully, however, they'll retain their basic personalities and won't be too off the mark. This is a Sakuno-centric story, yes, (she's a doll, come on!) and although she's older and bit stronger with age she's still Sakuno. I wrote this because I wanted to see what it would be like for an older Sakuno to interact with other people as well as Seigaku. Although it starts with Hyotei, Seigaku will make an appearance soon and so will Ryoma. But that is for another day! Enough talk, have at you! For now, please enjoy the start of this 10- part story of a very special summer of friendship and wackiness (oh, how wacky it will be!) as Sakuno begins to come of age :  
_

**The Onigiri Tastes Best Under the Summer Sun   
**

**Sakuno Adventure #1: Sakuno Vs. Atobe the Bento Thief **

In the city of Tokyo, during the month of August when the schools had closed down for the summer break, there was a small food vendor's booth that used to be open only on weekends but now did business every day of the week except Sunday. Normally it was operated by a restaurant proprietor's family; but this particular summer a new face appeared to help sell the foodstuffs, a fifteen year old girl who had finished her last year of junior high.

This was the sweet and fresh-faced Ryuuzaki Sakuno who, if one hadn't seen her in action outside of her workstation, was most famously known for being of the clumsiest things alive on God's green earth. Yet, young as she was, she was good at her job and thrilled to have summer work doing what she liked best. It would both hone her skills as a cook—her greatest dream now was to be a professional chef and maybe even own a restaurant of her own one distant day—and it gave her pocket money to spend on her other hobbies, such as collecting fine clips and pins for her hair or saving up for that special all-in-one flash-fryer/double-boiler/atomic clock/julienne fry maker that had been made in the labs of the United States Army (outlawed in five prefectures; think of what she could do with one of _those _babies!). Quite an advantageous set-up for her.

And how did she get this job?

Most people who knew her from childhood agreed that she had had culinary skills from the time she was nine or so. She had earned practice by cooking meals for a small household which mainly consisted of her and her grandmother, though other relatives dropped in from time to time. She always seemed to cut herself when using real knives at first but it was clear the talent was there. By the time she was eleven she pretty much was cooking for the both of them, save for the times when she needed her grandmother's assistance doing something really complicated, since Coach Ryuuzaki was a busy lady and had very little time to focus on good cooking.

But in the first year of junior high Sakuno's confidence and ego had suffered a few setbacks all thanks to the careless offhand remarks of a cocky twelve year old boy on whom she had a major, earth-splitting crush; despite the fact he hardly ever had a kind word to say to her. To his credit, it wasn't as if he really meant to be unkind—he just had no clue at all about how to deal with non-tennis-related social interactions involving very, _very_ shy girls who had easily bruised feelings. Still, even though the mix-up was later explained to her and that his scorn had been reserved for the match he'd been watching, not her bento, it still had rattled Sakuno's faith in herself. She had poured a lot of hard work into that bento, had wanted it to be so special that even Ryoma would be wrenched out of his tennis-obsessed mindset for just a few seconds and say, "Hey, this is pretty good, Ryuuzaki. Thank you for your concern and affection. I love you! Let's get married!"

Well, even if the last part was completely impossible (but a twelve-year-old with a whimsical imagination could dream just once or twice, couldn't she?), it would have been nice for him to given her the slightest acknowledgment. But after Ryoma had left once again a year ago to play in the States for heaven knew how long Sakuno, a bit lonely for him and downcast, had resumed her cooking studies. She really had never abandoned them since she continued to cook for her grandmother quite a lot, and in earnest. She took home-ec classes in school and proved very good at it—the top chef in her class, in fact. Her teachers had been quite impressed, suggesting that she apprentice herself part-time to a professional and start learning the tricks of the trade before moving on to culinary school or getting a food sciences degree in college later on. She had talked it over with her grandmother, who thought it was a good idea.

Thus Coach Ryuuzaki, pulling her weight, had asked the Kawamuras (owners of one of their favorite places to eat) if they wouldn't mind taking on another apprentice in addition to their son Takashi, who had by then retired from full time tennis to follow in his father's footsteps. The Kawamuras obliged and three times a week plus weekends for half a year now Sakuno reported to their kitchen, working as their sous-chef. As talented as she was it was quite the challenge to work with real professionals, even if her jobs mainly consisted of chopping up vegetables, mixing garnishes and watching over the soups. Sakuno didn't think that she could make sushi like Mr. Kawamura could in a million years; truly good sushi was really an art form which she had yet to master. But the experience was invaluable, the Kawamuras very kind, and they loved her baking. In fact, they began to feature her desserts in their menu, which were proving popular. The Kawamura restaurant really didn't specialize in baking so her concoctions were a pleasant surprise for its customers.

Sakuno also greatly enjoyed working with her Taka-senpai, whom she found really sweet and gentle when he didn't have a racquet in hand. They were both quiet and a bit shy but they had fun talking over their cutting boards, dancing along next to each other to the beat from the radio they liked to have playing while they worked, and exchanging talk about tennis, customers, schoolmates, what she could expect when she moved on to high school after the summer's end. Almost every week at least one of the old Seigaku Regulars stopped by the sushi shop when she working but Sakuno was too shy to even come out to the front. It wasn't as if she didn't adore her old seniors or wished to avoid them; she was just terribly afraid that they would eat something of hers in front of her and spit it out because it was so horrible. Taka always assured her that they liked her cooking just fine but it was a constant source of anxiety for her. Yet her recalcitrance didn't stop some of them from asking to come back into the kitchen to say hello.

Fuji-senpai and Eiji-senpai in particular liked to pop in whenever she happened to be on shift to compliment her food and chew the fat a little. It'd been a while since she last saw them and they didn't appear to have changed much. Fuji-senpai always smiled at her and kept on asking her to triple the amount of spices in his food (even when she'd already spiced it up as high as she dared); Eiji-senpai, his language deteriorating even more deeply into his gibberish-laced 'hoi hoi' and 'nyah' speech every time she saw him, kept trying to glomp her. It was nice to know some things were constant in this universe.

Now that Taka could stay longer at the home business, the restaurant did its traditional thing and opened up a small outlying street booth. It was located in a nice plaza within a good but not terribly upscale district along with other licensed street vendors. Some of them sold food but others dealt in trinkets, jewelry, and such like things. What she used to do only on every other weekend now for the whole working week through August, from ten to two thirty; Sakuno would take bento boxes pre-made and some desserts along with a small portable grill, food supplies, and a store of kitchen utensils so that she could cook on the spot when things were about to run out or if she wanted to supplement the wares in any way and report to work.

On this fine morning of the first Monday of August, Sakuno had arrived at the booth after being taken there by Mr. Kawamura. Normally her grandmother helped her but last night Grandma had gotten a rather nasty cough and fever and didn't feel well enough to drive, doped up with syrup as she was. It was nothing really serious but Sakuno couldn't help but worry. Secretly, ever since she was twelve and her grandmother had a stroke, she dreaded that someday a worse attack might come and she would be left all alone. Part of her hadn't wanted to come today, but her Grandma insisted. Sakuno agreed but decided that while she helped prepare the bentos in the Kawamura kitchen she would make her grandmother a very special bento, made with all her skill she could muster and filled with the elderly woman's favorites. She had then put the food lovingly into a shiny black lacquer bento box with swirling lilac flowers painted on its lid and drooping down onto the edges, its beauty useful as a reminder that this was a special treat. Sakuno was happy with herself. How happy her grandmother would be when she got this for a late lunch later in the afternoon!

Arriving inside the booth and putting everything in place, Sakuno beamed around her. She always liked working in this cozy place—she really just liked cooking in general. She had no real delusions that she'd be great in any other field, especially not in sports, but she was in her element now. She also liked the sense of order and control it afforded her; she was like a queen among the throngs of her courtiers and subjects, ruling them with a munificent yet powerful hand, commanding them to create works that brought life-sustaining nourishment to others. As she looked around, Sakuno passed her hand over a few objects as she addressed them regally, caught up in her flight of fancy.

"Good morning, Mr. Wok. Greetings, knife family! How do you do, rice steamer-kun? Is all well in the kingdom today? Will we make tasty treats for the peoples? Good! You make your queen so happy with your enthusiasm!"

Cheered up by her whimsy, Sakuno opened up the booth for business. The days tended to start out fairly slowly and pick up towards noon, so she entertained herself for a half hour by arranging everything according to her sense of perfection. The sushi rolls, the boxes, and the desserts must all be arranged like so…and she also liked to place flowers and scattered petals on the counter at intervals, not too much at once but just enough to add color and freshness. Sometimes she could be scatterbrained but she was very conscientious when it came to her work. That's why the Kawamuras had taken to her, Sakuno thought, and it would be a shame to let them down, ever.

Happily she bent over the displays of bento boxes, the light pastries with delicate embroideries of chocolate stringing and frosting applied on top, and the sushi pieces she had worked so hard to help make as symmetrical as possible and fresh, arranging them to look their very best and most delectable. She also moved the small flower buds and petals to accentuate the coloring of the food. If nothing else, Sakuno thought, she at least had a good eye for arrangement. She had moved her grandmother's bento off to the side, away from the others. It was the plan to set it down under the table next to her feet when she was finished making sure things were absolutely right on top.

A shadow suddenly blotted the gay colors. Without giving her time to look up to greet whoever was standing in front of her a voice launched into a mighty monologue.

"Ah! How charming this quaint little booth is. The flowers are an artful contrast. One rarely sees such work put into plebian establishments such as this. Ah, Kabaji?"

"Ossu."

Sakuno's eyes widened among the first crashing waves of utter stupefaction rolling over her. It had been one and a half years or so since her eyes laid on him last, ever since the third years had moved on to high school tennis matches, but her short exposure to him and his eccentrics had made him very memorable indeed. She felt her gut clench with extreme nervousness and shyness. He had always been rather pushy and pompous, much too full of his own greatness. Sakuno didn't know how to handle such flamboyancy. But since it would be rude not to answer him and just keep her head down, so she slowly lifted it back up with a wobbling smile.

"G-Good day, Atobe-san. I hope you are d-doing well."

Flicking his hair (which had grown out again after he cut it a few years back), Atobe smirked as only he could smirk. "It always goes well for Ore-sama. Ore-sama thanks you for your consideration of his health." His sharp eyes peered down at her and he pointed at her long braids. "You seem quite familiar to Ore-sama. Very much so. In fact--aha! Ore-sama knew his stupendous brain could not forget!" He turned his face slightly to address the large young man shadowing him, whose height had also contributed in the blocking out of Sakuno's light.

"Ne, Kabaji, is this girl not Coach Ryuuzaki's granddaughter? And did she not serve as a helper in the Invitational Camp two years, six months, and five days ago?

"Ossu."

Flushing with embarrassment, Sakuno bowed. She didn't know why he was addressing Kabaji instead of her directly but if it kept him from badgering her with questions Sakuno was all right with that. "It's good t-to see you again, Atobe-san."

The full force of his gaze was directed back onto her, smirk at full blast. He did seem pleasantly surprised, though for the life of her she didn't know why. It was a miracle, Sakuno thought, that he even remembered her. People tended to overlook her. She just wasn't memorable. "Likewise, you must be sure, Ryuuzaki-chan." He eyed her wares and didn't notice her odd look at his automatically familiar tone. "As Ore-sama said, this is quite a charming set up you have here. Your eye for decoration and delicate nuances of contrast is second only to Ore-sama's, yes, yes. The food looks almost as good as what Ore-sama eats at home. And Ore-sama employs only the finest chefs."

Deciding to take a compliment where she could, Sakuno smiled again at him, this time with more courage behind it and said, "Atobe-san is too kind."

"Ore-sama's beneficence knows no bounds. Ah, Kabaji?"

"Ossu."

Sakuno suddenly began to remember why Tezuka-buchou had sometimes flinched when he even heard the sound of Atobe's name. He wasn't really a mean-spirited young man but his attitude was almost suffocating; his use of the third person was also starting to give her a headache. She had always been a bit intimidated by him too, even when she just watched him play against her schoolmates in matches. Atobe was like some kind of alien being from Planet Honkinbighead and she wondered why he had even bothered to stop by. But if her treats had indeed enticed him--

"Would you like to buy some food, Atobe-san? A bento, maybe just a treat or two? I make them and taste-test them myself. I can guarantee they're made from only the very freshest ingredients."

"Hmm," he sniffed, eyeing the food once more, "this looks fine enough for most people, but Ore-sama is not sure if he's in the mood, especially since he has already had a fine brunch made by his servants. However," he continued as Sakuno lowered her head a little, giving this up for a lost cause, "perhaps in his bounty Ore-sama shall buy some plebian treats for his teammates."

Although she had never had such a _mighty need_ to roll her eyes in exasperation in her life, Sakuno just smiled at him and asked what he would like to get for the Hyotei team. Atobe selected seven of her pastries, four cake slices and three small fruit tart confections. As she wrapped them up for him Atobe suddenly pointed to the lacquer box off to the side.

"What's in there?"

Gazing at where he pointed, Sakuno recalled her original plan and moved to grasp it. "Oh, this! This is a very special bento I made, Atobe-san. I worked really hard on it. It has jasmine rice made with a special curry and some homemade soba noodles and gyoza dumplings and tonkatsu and some yakitori made with a special recipe. It's for—"   
But before she could finish Atobe's mighty finger had leveled itself at the beautiful box imperiously. "Ore-sama supposes he could deign to purchase that for a late lunch. How much does it cost?"

Gaping, Sakuno moved to place a hand on the lid, which hopefully would make him get the hint. "I'm sorry, Atobe-san, it's not for sale. I didn't mean to put it up here with the others. If you will please excuse me…Perhaps you would like something else?"

"Ore-sama does not accept the premise that something can't be for sale," came the reply as his own hand set down across from hers on the lid. "But it obviously means much to you and you do not wish to part with it for any common price."

Finally a small frown of consternation creased the skin between her eyebrows. He really was insistent. Her heart began to beat faster as her fight-or-flight (usually flight) tendencies began acting up. Sakuno did her best to swallow down her distaste for confrontation and managed to stand her ground. "I really am very sorry, but I cannot sell you this, Atobe-san. But look. This is a very nice bento right here--"

The launch into her spiel was suddenly interrupted by a wince-inducing clattering from a nearby booth. Looking over Sakuno saw that two places over an old lady who sold fruit had gotten her supply cart jostled by a clumsy pedestrian, boxes spilling out over the ground. The woman had gray hair with a wrinkled face and limping walk so Sakuno figured it would be difficult for the poor lady to bend over. Since Atobe hadn't seemed very interested in looking at the other bentos she considered him a botched sale. Excusing herself politely with a bow, Sakuno heedlessly left her station momentarily. It was very heedless indeed because Sakuno did not remember that Atobe was not easily swayed when he had his mind set on something. Proving no good deed goes unpunished, he waited stealthily for her to leave before springing.

When she returned to her booth it did not take long for Sakuno to realize that something was amiss. When she saw the empty spot on the table, the bills left in its place didn't immediately register; she got on her knees and hands and looked under her table, on top of her cooler and then inside it, almost practically everywhere in her small workspace before she picked up the bills, staring at them dumbly. There was 25,000 yen here. Judging from the sheer amount of it all and the fact he had been the last customer she had seen, everything clicked into place like a perfect machine.

Sakuno's face paled. She just wanted to get down and cry her eyes out. Her bento for her grandmother was gone. It didn't matter that the amount left would more than cover what she had spent for ingredients and would let her make the same meal several times over. She had poured her soul into making that meal for Grandma—now it was stolen. It was an outrageous violation.

Had it been her own personal bento Sakuno would have just grinned and borne it after a crying spell; but this was a whole different bag of fish. Her initial instinct to bawl was crumbling away into a stronger emotion of outraged indignity as she crumpled the yen in her fist, eyes watering now out of a sense of frustration and offense as she had never felt before. She had spent almost three hours working on that bento meal—not to mention that her poor Grandma was at home sick! It was almost monstrous to her. In Sakuno's mind she began to take to the idea that this Atobe Keigo fellow held nothing sacred, especially the love of a grandchild for the grandmother who had so lovingly raised her. Who had raised Atobe?, she thought indignantly. Probably the household servants! What did he know of family? He probably liked shoving his grandmothers, if he had them, down the stairs. He was obviously anti-grandmother stance. The beastly peacock!

Realizing that her thoughts were going uncharacteristically wild, Sakuno forced herself to breathe through her nose. She must be calm. She had to think rationally. She looked at the bills in her hand. He probably thought this would make it all right. In any other case she would just have let this go. But no, Sakuno thought, a determined look forming on her face, now was not the time to be her normal quiet, meek self. Atobe Keigo needed to know that just because he was as wealthy as he was beautiful that it didn't give him the right to do just whatever he pleased to whomever he pleased. Come hell or high water she would demand her bento back and give him back his money. Yes. Some things were worth fighting for.

With that in mind Sakuno put up a 'Be Back in 30 Minutes' sign on her booth and rushed out, braids flying with a will.

**PoT PoT PoT**

A few minutes later, Sakuno had to admit one thing: She really hadn't planned this out very well.

The girl leaned against the brick column of a colonnaded area that went through some nearby tennis parks to catch her hitching breath. Her braids had gotten messy, she'd nearly tripped three times over her own agitated feet, and now she had an awful stitch in her side that stung with every slicing breath. Randomly running off in the approximate direction she had thought Atobe would have taken proved to be less than a stellar strategy. And now she'd gotten herself lost, out of breath, and near tears again. She'd never find him at this rate. He had probably eaten the whole bento by now, knowing her luck.

She rested her forehead against the cool brick as she tried to collect her thoughts. If she continued she'd probably only get more lost than she was now. There was no sign of her quarry anywhere. It seemed so futile. But—she couldn't give up. This was a matter of principle; she had to do this for her Grandma. How disappointed she would be when her granddaughter came home with no promised meal to help clear that cough away. She could just imagine Grandma's fallen face…

Once Sakuno caught her breath she decided to make one last determined sally. She wheeled about to start running down the porticos, whereupon she almost immediately slammed into someone, a very tall someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me, but I'm in a huge hurry," Sakuno stuttered out, mortified. A lanky boy with light hair was helping steady her with one hand and he looked equally embarrassed. Flustered as she was, Sakuno thought him only slightly familiar at first.

"It's all right," the boy said. "I should have done a better job of getting out of the way. But still, you might hurt yourself if you don't be careful."

His advice totally ignored, Sakuno's eyes riveted on the cream puff pastry he held in his other hand, knowing it immediately as her own handiwork. Doe eyes growing huge with realization, the vague familiarity of the boy bloomed into recognition. Although her directional senses were still pretty bad, Sakuno had a much better memory of people she had met in the past, even if it had been some time since she last saw a match involving Hyotei. And she remembered Choutarou Ohtori being the gentlest of the team.

"Oh! Ohtori-san!"

His brow wrinkled a little. "You know my name? Do you go to Hyotei?"

Shaking her head quickly, Sakuno managed to explain, ending on a note: "No, Ohtori-san, I remember you from tennis. My grandmother—she was, still is, the Seishun Gakuen coach—and your captain Atobe-san stole her bento from me!"

It was a bit much to process, she had to admit; still, she wished the dawning look on his face appeared sooner. "Wait—I remember now. I shouldn't have ever forgotten, not when Coach Ryuuzaki is your grandmother and when you have hair that long. I knew it looked familiar!" The expression shifted into confusion once more. "But what's this about Atobe-buchou?

After she explained quickly once more, he shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know, Ryuuzaki-san. Buchou can be pretty thoughtless sometimes but he'd never stoop to taking things from you. But then again…he does have a habit of not listening very closely…and he does think that money can solve pretty much everything…"

"Well, that's a wrong attitude to take!" Sakuno cried, her shyness overridden by the resurgence of indignance she felt just thinking about what had happened. "Please, Ohtori-san, do you know where he might be? I really need to talk to him. You know he shouldn't have done that. I—I just can't stand the fact that he thinks he can do just whatever he likes. I don't suppose anyone's really refused him anything very often, but he has to learn!"

Choutarou was seeming increasingly flustered, obviously caught between sympathy for her and reverence for his senior and captain. Noticing his hesitation Sakuno sighed deeply as her heart grew heavy. She was too old to be crying in front of him; but perhaps there was one thing she could to appeal to his better nature. Sakuno lowered herself onto her knees, hands clasped in supplication.

"Please, Ohtori-san, help me find him. I'm begging you: just lead me to him. I'll take care of the rest. This is for my Grandma." Her resolution not to cry wavered just a bit with her emotions as a single large tear started welling up in her eye and dripped down onto her cheek, but that one drop was like throwing an A-bomb on Ohtori's conscience.

He never had a prayer.

"Well, buchou gave us these treats he said he bought and then we all split up, but we're supposed to meet up again in a few minutes…"

**PoT PoT PoT**

It was good to know that she might be able to get her bento back soon, if that monkey-king hadn't eaten it already. However, as she walked next to Choutarou at a very brisk pace to keep up with his longer steps, Sakuno would not let herself relax until she had that special box back safe and sound in her hands. Ohtori kindly was reassuring her that when the team went out together they normally ate at the same time. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, smiled at him in her shy way, but did not want to fully hope for a good resolution just yet.

A few blocks from the porticos was an elegant fountain, the place Choutarou said was their rendezvous point. Indeed, when they started getting closer Sakuno could detect the sounds of 'kyaaah's and 'Atobe-sama's being screeched into the air. Her companion smiled encouragingly.

"Yep, he's already there, Ryuuzaki-san. We'll just talk to him and show that this was all a big mistake. I'm sure he'll understand."

Approaching the fountain they could see six other young men behind Atobe, who was currently waving to his omnipresent fans and signing a few autographs. Most of his team was sitting but one was on his back taking a snooze, curly head turned away from them. Atobe had just finished the last autograph and now was basking in adulation. Choutarou helpfully guided Sakuno up through the mass, using his larger bulk to its advantage. At their coming Atobe narrowed his sharp eyes then widened them a little.

"Ah, Choutarou! What is the meaning of this? Why are you late? And why are you, little Ryuuzaki-chan, accompanying him? If it is to thank Ore-sama for his purchases—"

Her braids shook along with her head as Sakuno stepped forward. Her face was blushing from shyness against her will, eyes cast down, but she could feel all these eyes on her and hated the sensation, just like being pricked with hundreds of tiny invisible pins. Licking her lips she managed: "I—I would like for you to return m-my bento back, A-Atobe-san. I said it wasn't for sale and I, I meant it. Please."

In the background the other (conscious) members of the Hyotei tennis team began to chuckle at this development. Oshitari's glasses gleamed when he leaned down to comment offhandedly to Gakuto that this might just be a first for them, seeing a fangirl demand a gift back.

"Doesn't look like the usual breed of fangirl to me," Shishido answered with a concentrating look at the girl. "She doesn't act like they usually do. This might be interesting."

"Let's watch the fun," said Gakuto. "It's been a boring day so far."

In haughty response Atobe arched an imperious eyebrow at her. This was a surprise request. "Why should Ore-sama do such a thing? Ore-sama purchased this fair and square."

"It doesn't matter if you paid for it, Atobe-san," Sakuno cried out, finally giving a steady voice to her words. "You took that bento when I said you couldn't! You didn't even let me explain. That's not a young man's bento! It's for my grandmother who's sick at home with a cold. I promised her I'd bring her home supper. And you...and you…" Unable to find the words she turned to the large shadow behind him now, frowning at Kabaji. "And you! You were with him. Why didn't you stop him, Kabaji-san? You know what he did was wrong!"

Kabaji had the decency to blush, giving her a silent pleading gaze. Kabaji had rather expressive eyes and Sakuno felt her anger at him ebb away; he probably had protested but Atobe hadn't listened very well. The boy was the king of selective hearing.

"You took food that was supposed to be for a sick grandma?" Oshitari demanded from his perch on the fountain; even he looked a bit scandalized. Jirou even pricked up his sleepy head from the pillow of his arms. "That's a new low for you, Atobe."

"Why don't you go rob a nursing home while you're at it?" chimed in Gakuto. "Are you really that bored you get your jollies from taking stuff from old people?"

"And not just any old person," added Jirou.

"Sumire Ryuu-freakin-zaki," Shishido ended. Even he looked alarmed, shuddering at his remembrance of how fierce the old woman could be. "You're just lucky you haven't opened the bento yet. Or else we'd be trolling Tokyo Bay for your body, Atobe."

Sakuno looked all around at them, half torn between being relieved that they were taking her side but also a bit distressed that they saw her grandmother as some kind of ogress. She wasn't that mean—she just very strict! Although it had to be conceded that her grandmother wouldn't be happy to learn about this. Maybe they weren't so far off the mark, though she doubted her Grandma would ever really seriously hurt anyone. "She wouldn't do anything like that!" she cried, then hesitated. "But—Grandma wouldn't be happy, either. Even if I made her another bento, she'd be mad just on principle. Besides, she likes my cooking. She'd find some way to show you how displeased she was, Atobe-san. And my Grandma isn't afraid to smack!"

Taken a bit off guard from so much protest, Atobe felt compelled to defend his intentions. "Ore-sama paid for the bento, didn't he? You could make many such bentos. And Ore-sama truly thought he was blessing you, a commoner, with his glorious solicitation. And you denied it! Do you know how many young ladies would kill or be killed for such an opportunity to occur to them?"

She began flapping her hands in agitation, so upset was she, and the ends of her braids flapped with the motion so it looked like she almost had four hands. "That's not my point! You just took it! That was very rude of you, you know! And very disrespectful of my grandmother. It's like--like if you went up to her and just slapped her on the face. I don't care what you think of me, Atobe-san, but my grandmother deserves your respect and consideration. I'd have let it go otherwise but that's just one thing I won't stand for. And so here I am. And I am asking you to please give me back that bento, or else—"

Taken aback at this delicate-looking creature's vehement defense, Atobe was snapped out of his stupefaction that a girl was chewing him out instead of falling at his feet in worship. "Are you threatening Ore-sama? What could you do, little one?"

Taking in a calming breath, Sakuno wiped at her face and regained some of her normal sweet demeanor. "I would never dream of threatening you, Atobe-san. I myself can do nothing and even though I was mad I really would never wish you harm. However—I also am very close with my dear Grandma. And when I come home tonight with only a bought bento and not homemade like I promised, she'll ask questions. And when she does, I'd never lie to her. And when she gets better—I don't think even I could stop her, nor all of your bodyguards. And she'd call your parents beforehand and tell them just what has happened, too, so I don't think you'd get help there. She'd do it, too. She's not afraid of anyone."

Atobe regained most of his poise now but his face was rather white. Sakuno waited for his response. Suddenly all of her adrenaline she had built up trying to find him and then standing up to him drained out of her and Sakuno felt her shoulders trembling terribly. All her former boldness seeped away. She wondered if she really had been too hasty, too vehement, too forward. She hadn't been bombastic like her friends Tomo-chan or Ann-chan might have been, but it was the harshest she had ever spoken to anyone. She really had been so angry, it was almost unbelievable.

She felt a hand steadying her shoulder and looked up into Choutarou's concerned face. "Are you all right, Ryuuzaki-san? You look pale. Maybe you should sit down?"

Sakuno managed to smile up at him but it was wobbly. "I'll be fine, Ohtori-san. But I really would like my bento back now, Atobe-san."

"Give it back to her, Atobe. Don't be a jerk," Jirou counseled. Atobe scowled a little but with a dramatic flourish of the knee was about the bend down and offer it back to her when Gakuto made a terrifying observation.

"Hey," he said, "it's pretty quiet. Where did the fangirls go?"

Indeed it was just as he said. The normal throng of Atobe's devoted worshipers was nowhere in sight. The stillness was eerie.

Shishido's face paled. "Oh,_ shit,_" he said.

Even Hiyoshi's stolid face flinched as he turned to his captain, eyes showing an unusual amount of alarm. "Atobe, you better give that back to her right _now._ I mean it. They're getting reinforcements."

"Too late!" mumbled Jirou, who seemed almost half-awake now. "They're coming."

A small cloud of dust appeared at the end of the block. Soon it resolved into a small pack of absolutely furious young women, perhaps some young men as well. Just as if it were a natural disaster, none of them could wrench their eyes away or even move. It was too mesmerizing in its terror.

"There she is!" called a voice. "The girl who spat on Atobe-sama's patronage and demanded he give back his rightful bento as if he were a commoner!"

"How dare she give him treats when she's not in the club!"

"Pull out her braids! Teach her proper reverence for Atobe-sama!"

Sakuno screamed as the fangirls dove in all around her and she shielded her face, knowing that fangirls always liked going for the eyes first. They were all utterly enraged like a herd of bulls and just as unstoppable. She really wondered if this was going to be the end for her. She could feel their breath on her neck, winced in anticipation of her braids being torn out of her scalp and other such torments.

Miraculously, none of these things happened. Instead she felt someone stand in front of her and wrap her up tightly, shielding her. Ohtori's voice came from above: "Hold on to me, Ryuuzaki-san, and pull your braids forward. We'll protect you!" She did as she was told, quickly brushing her braids so they hung past her ears and down her blouse front. Then she squeezed her eyes shut in the ultimate gesture of trust. Ohtori was tall and could easily cover her but the sheer numbers made her worry that he would not last long. She didn't want to see his fate or her own if he succumbed to the fangirl onslaught.

The terrible din was still quite audible, however, and the shrieks and cries were sounding out all around. She also heard some random coos as some girls probably looked back briefly at Atobe and his team. She could also discern Atobe's frantic orders.

"Oi, Kabaji! Keep that bento out of their reach. Yes, yes, hold it above your head, that's good. Ore-sama needs to call all of his security forces!" She thought she heard him yelling at his bodyguards but it was indistinct. Things didn't seem to be going so well; Sakuno dimly heard him through her fright that there was not enough bodyguards to both protect Atobe and ward off the legions at the same time, nor could Atobe prevail on his bodyguards to go to the girl's aid. So instead there came another yell.

"Ore-sama must resort to desperate measures! Fetch Ore-sama his racquet! Good. Hiyoshi! Get into place! Ore-sama gives you full reign to use your force with extreme prejudice! All ready? GO!"

"HAIYAIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYI!" came an unearthly cry. It sounded almost like a karate yell but with much more energy than normal behind it. It was rather terrifying.

Immediately there were thwacking sounds and yowling screams of fangirls. The karate yells continued high above the rest of the clamor and she heard the other Hyotei boys shouting encouragement like "Kick ass, Hiyoshi!" and "Aim for the crotch, Atobe!" and the sort. After a minute or so the tumult died down, the retreat sounded. Everything was still once more. Sakuno was still shaking with fright but managed to crack open her eyes. She stared into Choutarou's shirtfront before moving her head around to look at the others. Hiyoshi was still pumped up and shuffling on the balls of his feel just in case of any surprises. Atobe had his racquet in hand; tennis balls, empty cans, and various other hastily snatched up debris lay scattered in the small combat area. He scowled slightly over at them.

"You may stand down now, Ohtori. It's over."

Choutarou released her, his face a bit red. Sakuno stared, a bit shocked still, when Atobe came up to her with the bento in hand. He presented it to her on his knee very regally, genuine regret on his face. Sakuno smiled upon taking it. He really wasn't so bad after all.

"Ore-sama apologizes profusely for that fright given you, Ryuuzaki-chan. He did not mean to cause you such grief. Accept this with our deepest regrets. And," he produced a bunch of roses, "these as well."

Mouth open to thank him, Sakuno accepted the objects, flowers included (though that made her blush some more)--they'd be a nice thing to decorate her booth with.

"You have also done what many have not and showed a fine spirit to Ore-sama, defending your family honor and facing his awesome presence! And thus," he continued, "Ore-sama shall bestow upon you, Sakuno-chan, the greatest gift he can grant." He paused importantly, smiling in a way that Sakuno thought was his most genuine smile yet. "A date with Ore-sama. Be awed by Ore-sama's munificence!"

Gakuto had crammed his knuckles in his mouth to keep from laughing and was gnawing on them. The others looked either sour or bemused. Sakuno felt her face erupt into a warm blush yet again. It was probably down to her neck now.

"I am sorry, Atobe-san, but I must decline your generous offer."

At Atobe's look of pure shock everyone except Choutarou and Kabaji had burst into laughter. Jirou and Gakuto acted as if they were about to have fits. Jirou actually laughed so hard he fell back into the fountain but didn't seem to care how wet he got. Sakuno looked up at the tall boy behind her but he just looked too stunned himself to help.

"Ore-sama _insists _he make this up to you, Sakuno-chan. Ore-sama thinks he shall call you that from now on; we will have a date together, after all. Ne, Kabaji?"

Shockingly, Kabaji didn't even answer. Sakuno decided to take this chance and came up with the only thing she thought might work.

"Look!" she cried, pointing behind Atobe, eyes wide. "Isn't that Tezuka-buchou?"

Only someone who was a totally Tezuka-obsessed prima donna would have been suckered by the trick; and luckily, since Atobe was both of these things, he immediately whipped his head in all directions. "Where!? Where is Ore-sama's greatest rival?"

The few seconds were all Sakuno needed to fuel one of the fastest retreats ever made by man, or at least teenage girls. By the time Atobe had stopped looking around she was already a full block away and speeding still. If she were a cartoon there'd have been a smoke trail behind her.

"Atobe, you sucker," Gakuto muttered, incredulous.

"A—Ah! Hey! Sakuno-chan!" Atobe called out after her, voice with more than a hint of desperate confusion. "Girls run _towards _Ore-sama, not away! You're in reverse! Retreat backwards!"

"Wow, look at her go!" Jirou whistled, shading his eyes and pushing his sopping curls away as he watched the flying pigtails vanish into the crowd, since of course Sakuno was not going to be stopping for anything. "She moves lots faster than you'd think with such slender legs like that."

"You're losing your touch, Atobe," Oshitari drawled amusedly. "Your got denied twice in one day by the same girl? That's never happened to you since you tried coercing a date from that Tachibana girl, has it?"

"Silence! And you, Jirou, what are you doing, looking at her legs?" Atobe snapped, whirling around at them. "She is obviously in denial of Ore-sama's prowess. Ore-sama's aura is too great for the fairer sex to handle sometimes. In this case, its force was too great for her to even stand and swoon in Ore-sama's presence; it made her fly away for her own safety and health, as she is a delicate-looking creature."

Hiyoshi just scowled more deeply and Shishido muttered something about never having seen anyone with his head crammed so far up his ass. Oshitari removed his glasses to wipe away a tear of mirth. Scowling at their lack of awe, Atobe just snapped his fingers.

"This place tires Ore-sama. Let us take our repast and move away so that no unfortunate creatures are overcome by Ore-sama's prowess."

Despite his outward denial, the autumn wind does not strip the leaves from the thick tree bark more swiftly than Atobe's sense of importance had been stripped just for one brief moment when the weight of all that one slender girl's resistance had fallen upon his ego. It had quickly reinflated to full size once she was gone but it was something he would not soon forget.

Unfortunately for Sakuno, other people wouldn't forget so easily either.


	2. Adventure 2: Rikkai Dai Bodyguards

**Sakuno Adventure #2: Rikkai Dai no Yojimbo/Rikkai Dai Bodyguards! **

A few days later the weekend rolled around, heralding Coach Ryuuzaki's smashing recovery from her small illness. Sakuno's grandmother insisted on driving her to work again and as they pulled up to the curb outside the porticoed square Sakuno bounced out of the car, gave her grandmother a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and started on her way to the booth with her supplies. The crowds were still thin; nothing seemed awry, amiss, askewed, or in any way irregular—at least not until Sakuno saw the booth up close.

The shining white plaster on its outer boards was spray-painted all over with various graffiti. Mostly it was shapeless, nothing really obscene (these fangirls of Atobe's had some limits, at least), but it jarred terribly with the décor and was just ugly looking. And near the bottom of the door in small words applied in chalk she could read STAY AWAY FROM ATOBE-SAMA, PEASANT. Mouth agape, Sakuno reached for the door to find its lock had been pried open, probably with wire-cutters or pliers. Her face paled completely as she rushed in only to make the discovery that whatever had been left in the booth now lay scattered all over the floor. Ants had flocked to the rice and were everywhere, making her cringe. She hated insects. Immediately Sakuno rushed out, slamming the door behind her, trying not to collapse to the ground and hyperventilate until she passed out. It was manageable to stave off the latter but not the former. Down she went, right onto her knees, and looked up to the empty sky without batting so much as an eyelid.

This was an utter disaster. The only positive thing was that no money had been left inside the booth; since every day after the booth closed the day's cash was taken to the Kawamuras' place.

She was too ashamed to call the Kawamura place to tell them what had happened (even if she, in her absolute brilliance, had forgotten her cell phone at home, she at least had change for a pay-phone); this was obviously a recent development, probably happened in the night, and it had been directed at her personally. How they got a hold of her schedule Sakuno didn't even want to know. It'd be shameful for the pleasant and kind Kawamuras to see this vandalism. And her grandmother—what would she say? The last thing Sakuno knew her grandmother needed was to hear about this. The old girl would raise the roof and that didn't sound like it'd be good for someone who had a shaky medical history in her golden years. Heart attacks and strokes aside, Sakuno hated to think that people would consider this job too much for her, that she couldn't do it. The Kawamuras had such faith in her…

With deliberation Sakuno lifted herself back up on her feet, almost dizzy with the shock and the sick feeling in her belly. Luckily she managed to maintain a fairly clear head which had the presence of mind to council her to go to the neighboring booths and shyly asking for cleaning supplies if the neighbors had any. Most vendors did look out for their own and soon she had borrowed a bucket, several rags, a good push-broom, plus some heavy-duty cleaning fluids. The ants and ruined food were first to go, since she couldn't stand them; next she easily wiped off the chalk lettering but the spray-painted stuff needed more effort. Her arms ached as she rubbed the rags soaked in water and cleaning fluid against the walls of the booth as hard as she could and it required three good scrubbings before it was gone completely. And the broken lock was totally a lost cause; she'd just have to buy another one before going back home.

"Geeeeez," she sighed, not at all pleased with the aching sensations piercing the muscles of her arms. She supposed it was at least a good thing that the graffiti had been erased now but it had just been a very ugly thing to deal with. Sakuno did not know what to make of it, really; she had done absolutely nothing wrong in the whole 'Atobe-san incident' as it was coined in her mind, but evidently some fans were not happy with how it panned out. She usually tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, but this particular incident had no doubts about it: people were just being mean to her for no real good reason at all. Sakuno thought she would be used to being a bully magnet by now but everything that happened as a result of people's malice still jarred her, the shock never dulling.

So caught up in her musings on injustice that Sakuno did her normal thing and didn't look where she was going, tripping over her own sandaled feet. She went tumbling to the ground just as soft thumping sounds came from above, where her head had been just scant seconds before. A bit of moisture landed on her nose. Turning her head back the young woman cried out softly: three broken water balloons were slowly sliding down the booth wall along with a small cascade of water. A small cry of dismay broke through her lips as she crawled on her hands and knees towards the door, barely making it inside her booth before another volley soared in the air and hit the wood.

Safely inside the protective walls the unfortunate girl cradled her forehead in one hand to fight off the tension headache that was fast coming on. It was a small mercy that they seemed to be just using water and not filling the balloons with paint or syrup, but she doubted that little reprieve would last long. They couldn't do anything to her physically now, but what would she say to the Kawamuras when their nice booth had been pelted and defaced, which would make it seem like a second-rate, sloppy establishment, which would result in people avoiding the booth in disgust which would result in financial losses for the restaurant and they would be so disappointed in her, and now her head hurt—all because she stood up to Atobe for her grandma. Sakuno figured she now had entered on her own personal rocket-sled ride into Hell.

The sense of utter helplessness, being incapable of fighting against the vandals, pricked most at Sakuno's heart. There wasn't even a sporting chance for her to defend her place of business, no hope at all for any kind of defense system. Perhaps mounting some sort of counter-offensive would be asking for too much, but she would have at least wished for assistance in maintaining the booth's physical upkeep; Sakuno knew that if the attackers did start their vandal ways once more, she would be hard pressed to simultaneously man the booth and keep on constant alert to clean up messes as quickly as possible. And who was to say, her increasingly paranoid mind shivered, if the unseen guerillas didn't grow bolder? Right now only water balloons—the next, they might try to send bullies after her to shake the place down, or maybe even rent a bulldozer.

Another barrage of dull thuds caused the boards of her booth to shudder with the contact. Sakuno put her face in her hands again. If she wasn't under some kind of bizarre siege, then the sun actually rose in the north and set in the west and she actually had the best directional sense in the world.

More noises against the door. At this rate, it'd be a gun that she'd need.

**PoT PoT PoT **

Niou Masaharu was cranky and hungry. He'd given three wedgies as he moved through the crowds today but it didn't do anything to alleviate his annoyance at the world. He should have never agreed to go with Sanada-fukubuchou to Tokyo just so they could scope out the new big tennis store that had opened there; no amount of high-quality shoes or racquets he couldn't buy in Kanagawa was worth the aggravation. His vice-captain just moved so damn slowly like he was searching for the Holy Grail rather than a damn pair of wristbands. The brat who'd come with them was slow, too. Complaining didn't do any good either, outnumbered as he was, so before he did something really horrible to more innocent bystanders Niou had recused himself from the store, saying he would go ahead and meet them in a nearby square that had some outdoor food shops. He was hungry.

He began searching for a place that would sell something for his tastes and found one that caught his eye. The small booth exuded a warm, quaint atmosphere; he could detect small blossom petals spread out on its counter. To Niou's masculine mind, there was nothing so blatantly girly—he'd be damned if a female didn't run this racket. So very girly! It made him a little sick to think about it. But one look at its menu board showed that it sold some pretty tasty-looking stuff. Nose up in the air and his mind twisted with hypothetical pranks he'd like to play on the putative frilly-as-lace owner, he stepped forward and focused on the food instead. A bowl of udon would be nice, he guessed.

Just inside the booth he could see a girl sitting on a small chair next to the stove who had a very distracted air about her indeed. If her lips moving in silent discourse with herself didn't give enough of a hint, the way her hands were twining her long braids around her neck like a noose did. Was she going to choke herself? That'd be a sight!

Yes, now that wasn't something you just saw everyday. Glad to be rid of his boredom, smirk in place, Niou sauntered the rest of the way over to the girl's booth. He rapped his knuckles on the wood and watched the harried thing bustle about to meet him with increasing amusement, especially when she almost fell over. She was very distracted looking; he wondered if her mental faculties were all there.

"You gonna be ready sometime before I turn into an old geezer with a foot-long beard and give me some service?" he called out lightly. The girl reached him, her face strained in a smile that definitely did not suffuse into her eyes as she bowed. Upon closer inspection Niou saw that she had _ultra_-long brown braids, not the regular type. He loved braids. Loved to pull them, that is! Yank 'em real hard and let the screams slip forth. His fingers twitched in denied longing. The gods were testing him, he thought with some pain, putting him in the path of a girl like this with the most pullable braids in all the history of creation and he couldn't even manage the slightest tug! Not in public, not when she was behind the counter. If he reached in it'd be like assault or something; he didn't want to get into that much trouble. Jail wasn't his style.

"I'll be right you, Sir," she said to him. Her eyes had the glow of recognition. "You seem familiar, Sir. Do you…do you play tennis, maybe?"

He tossed his head proudly, silver hair gleaming. "Name's Niou. I play for Rikkai Dai High now. If you follow school tennis, you'd have heard about me, yeah. What's your name?"

She told him, gave her affiliation (he immediately recognized the school), and passed a hand over her selection. "Have you decided what you'd like or would you like me to list some of the items we have for you?"

Niou assumed his most serious deep-in-thought, earth-shattering expression that would have made Rodin blush for shame in the light of his clumsy attempt at trying to capture the essence of Think. He smushed his lips against his knuckles, brows knitted, eyes lingering over every sushi piece, every delicacy. Then it all just collapsed inwards as he lifted his head up high.

"Nah," he grinned sharply, "never mind. Not interested."

Niou waited in gleeful anticipation for her response. He thought it really funny when girls got so mad that they threw things with their girly, twiggy arms and bad aims while they yelled at him, mouths flapping like beached fish. Heck, even crying up a storm would have been funny, too. He liked it when girls proved what babies they were and wailed for mommy every time he did something bad.

Sakuno stared at him, shock registering on her face. It wasn't the meanest thing anyone had ever done to her, not by a long shot, but his cruel insouciance was the straw that broke the camel's back. She was just sick of all the horrible things that had been played on her today. She'd been exposed to flashes of human ugliness ever since she was out of grade school; for some reason her twelfth birthday had reversed her natural polarity and she always had seemed to attract big trouble to her by sheer bad luck alone. It hadn't been so bad because her Grandma or another friend, like Tomo-chan or Ryoma-kun or a Regular, had been there to help.

But today she was facing all of this totally alone.

Not able to take it anymore, Sakuno placed her hands over her cheeks and eyes and kept them there, head bent down with a weight that her neck could no longer support. Niou had expected something like that, but what he didn't expect was that she didn't make a single noise. Not even her shoulders shook. If she was crying, she was doing it in utter silence, and he didn't like that because it was just weird. It made his gut curdle a little.

"Um… are you okay?" The words came out unpremeditated.

The girl lifted her head up at him and he saw tears were trickling down her cheeks, still not making the lightest sound.

For some inexplicable reason Niou took no pleasure in the sight of her tears; something hot and heavy settled in the back of his head and stretched down his neck, something he did not feel very often if at all. He actually felt remorseful about this. Was he going insane or just plain soft?

"Hey, it's all right. I was just kidding! Really, I'll buy something. Just turn off the snotworks—please!"

Sakuno quickly regained her composure and wiped away the tears. "I'm sorry, Niou-san. It's just been a very bad day for me here." She then began enumerating a litany of things that had gone wrong for her, starting with the vandalism and then the water balloons and her inability to stop them. "I just can't move quickly enough to do anything, Niou-san. There's only one of me and so many of them, and I can't move from this place long enough to call anyone. It's awful!"

"Sounds rough," Niou admitted. Deep inside his sneaky, chaos-loving little heart he felt a twang of sympathy for this girl; it was like watching people throw full beer cans at a puppy or kitten, just not right and nobody should do it _ever. _And he had to admit that one teenage girl against some secret ninja fan hordes was not exactly equal odds.

"You don't know rough it's been, Niou-san," Sakuno gloomily assented, countenance wilted so much so that even her enamel daisy hairclip seemed withered. She gave him a hard look. "And you were so mean, too! That was a nasty trick."

"I said I was sorry," he grumbled, raising his hands to fend off any more accusations. Her gaze really made him feel lousy. Right then and there, regardless of his entire natural propensity towards watching people suffer Niou decided to make a very magnanimous offer.

"Maybe I could help you," he said, reaching for his bag. "What you need, Sakuno-chan, is a means of defense. And I happen to have some stuff right here that might do the trick. But," he paused, looking her deftly in the eye with purpose, "you gotta have the right attitude. You have to really want to defend this establishment of yours from the enemy, which includes making life a little difficult for 'em. You gotta want to fight _back_. Can you do it? You wanna teach 'em a lesson?" He reached out and poked her forehead with each word he said next. "_Do you got the guts_?"

"Yes, I do!" Sakuno cried out, enthused with the hope he offered.

He nodded in approval. "Then just tell me where they've been coming from, Sakuno-chan. I'll take care of the rest. I brought all my _equipment _with me." He would have boasted about his trickster ways but noticed that she was looking at his bag strangely.

"Would you sell me some…equipment for my own use, please? Just in case they come back after you 'take care' of them?" she asked, the hopeful edge sweetening her voice more. Niou's smirk faltered and his head jerked back a little.

"You want to _buy _stuff from me?" he repeated. His little finger jammed into his ear to clean it out just in case. Sakuno's rose-flamed face inclined in answer.

"Actually," she admitted, "I was thinking along more the line of barter. My food can be kept fresh for a while if put in the refrigerator. I'd pay in cash but my money's at home and I can't open the register box to pay right now—it wouldn't be fair to the Kawamuras. Still, there's plenty of food here and it's all very tasty, Niou-san. What—what do you say?"

Something about her demeanor combined with the cognizance of the straits she was in melted Niou's resolve just enough that he nodded in resigned assent. This girl was just too adorable with her shy ways, pretty brown hair that was too kiddy-looking for a fifteen year old yet somehow suited her, sweet face and quiet demeanor. It was like looking at a kitten or a hummingbird. Refusing her would be like punching said cute animals in the gob. He was many things but Niou wasn't quite tricksy or cruel enough to be a kitten-puncher. Besides, the cynical part of him added to the unanimous vote of the rest of his brain, it wasn't as if he were doing this for free. He'd be getting something in return: delicious treats. He could use them to his advantage later if he didn't eat them all, such as dangling them on a stick and playing keep away with the freshmen on the tennis team and watching them salivate in helpless famishment. A crooked smile wended its way across his face at the very thought of what he could do.

"Fine, fine," he mumbled. Niou reached into his school bag and brought out a strange-looking kit of sorts, the kind Sakuno sometimes saw advertised on TV for tools or sewing supplies. On it Niou had pasted little stickers like "Li'l Bastard Fun Kit" and some biohazard signs. It was hexagonally shaped, took up three quarters of his backpack, and when Niou pushed a latch the kit started uncurling along the countertop.

Before her lay a mini-arsenal.

There were firecrackers, cherry bombs, mini Roman candles, deflated whoopee cushions, smoke and stink bombs, fake bugs to put on girls' shoulders, gum that looked harmless but tasted like mucus, sneezing powders, itching powders that could leave welts the size of yen pieces, little mouse traps that closed on your finger if you put your hand somewhere and didn't look where it was going (perfect for desks and drawers), pieces of fake vomit, exploding cigarettes, special markers that lasted for days and couldn't be erased with washing so that if some unfortunate person had their face marked with a mustache while sleeping they could do nothing except wait, and there were also more mundane things like make-up (also for putting on sleeping boys' faces), scissors to cut off hair or skirt backs, tacks for putting in chairs, and much, much more.

Yes, Sakuno realized as she bent down to take a better look, she was dealing with a true pro here.

**PoT PoT PoT**

His face remained passive and stoic from habit, but Sanada could not keep down the annoyed pricklings that danced along his stomach lining. He would have thought that taking Kirihara would be the more trying part of this trip but Niou was the one proving to be the larger proverbial pain in the ass. The worst part of it was that he couldn't slap the ever-loving beejeebus out of Niou right then and there. Being a punctual young man, the fact that it had been five minutes after the time Niou agreed to meet up with him and Akaya and there was still no sign of that spiky silver head irked him. Akaya's whining wasn't helping either.

"Fukubuuuchoooou," Kirihara groaned, bouncing on his butt along the edge of the wall, "I'm tired of waiting. Where's Niou-senpai? I'm hungry! I'm bored! I wanna practice. Or play video games. Can't we go to an arcade or something?"

"Shut up, take it like a man, and be patient," Sanada answered coldly. The brat had been in this mode for over ten minutes, pestering him and testing his patience. It wasn't the waiting that wasn't bothering Sanada so much as the complaining. He hated whiners.

"Not my fault Niou-senpai's late. Can't we just leave without him? Let him take the bus back by himself? We got what we came for."

As much as he hated to admit it, Sanada had been entertaining similar thoughts. If his teammate couldn't tell time properly, then he wasn't obliged to play nursemaid for a seventeen-year-old who could take care of himself. The Rikkai Dai vice-captain was regretting his decision to make this a group outing in earnest now. He really should have just gone by himself; things always came out easier. He should leave teamwork building exercises to Yukimura from now on.

"No help for it, Akaya," Sanada clipped out through his tightened lips; he tugged down his black cap and frowned determinedly. "We'll just have to look for him. Let's go into that small shopping area first. It smells like they have food there and Niou might have gotten hungry. And…"

"We might as well get something for ourselves while we're there, right?" Akaya finished for him; he perked up immediately at the thought of food. "We can even bring the others some food back as well when we meet for practice this evening. They'd like that."

Surprised but pleased at Kirihara's rare consideration of his teammates, Sanada decided that his course of action would be for the best. With a silent nod he assented and Kirihara whooped, leaping off the wall to land lightly on the ground. They then set out for the nearest open air market.

"Okay, so I'll give you three strings of these firecrackers, five cherry bombs, and some sneezing powder for, say, oh…five onigiri, a bento, three crab rolls, and a piece of chocolate cake," they heard a depressingly familiar voice say. What was more shocking to them, however, was that the responding voice not only answered with firmness but also belonged to a female. A female addressing Niou and not begging him to spare her hair or panties was not a regular occurrence.

"I'm sorry, Niou-san, but the bento alone would cover the firecrackers and I'd say your powder is only worth two crab rolls. I'd need something more to make up the difference."

"What are you saying, Sakuno-chan? You think I'm selling cheapo fifty-yen cherry bombs here? Hell, no! These babies are the real thing! If you flushed just one down the toilet you'd flood an entire girl's bathroom. And these firecrackers…"

"I'm not interested in blowing up water lines, Niou-san, and firecrackers hardly do anything other than make noise. I want to defend myself, not blow the fangirls into deep space! Now, I am willing to give what you asked for if you throw in two colored smoke bombs and a packet of itching powder as well."

"Damn, you're merciless. I'd need another two sushi pieces for the powder. Take that, go with just the bombs, or else no deal."

"Fine. Two sushi pieces for the smoke bombs."

Kirihara and Sanada were just gawking at the scene as they observed the feared trickster of their school in deep, serious haggling with a girl who only came up to his chest and who, most freakishly enough, was both unafraid and unharmed. They were leaning over the counter strewed with Niou's tools of the trade, propping their chins on their hands and brows furrowed as if deep in a mighty game of Go. Was this the End Times?

Kirihara pointed, mouth slack; his companion was equally as shocked in his own way but recovered more quickly. The words left Sanada's mouth sharply as if he were spitting out hot pieces of pork cracklings as he went into full Nazi Authoritarian Mode, a state of being he normally reserved just for the courts. "Niou! What are you doing?"

The two jerked their faces towards the newcomers, Sakuno's mouth in a surprised 'o' while Niou wiggled his fingers in greeting.

"Hey, fukubuchou, hey, brat. Just doing some business. And," he sighed, "she's kicking my butt. She doesn't look like much at first, but I've never seen anyone so hard-nosed about prices. And to think, Sakuno-chan, I thought you were sweet."

"I am sweet!" Sakuno protested, smiling a little. She may not have had confidence in many things but over the years, with help from family members who also dealt in the food market, she had at least gotten her business attitude down just right. Be sweet and cordial but firm and never let people bilk you out of the money, that was the way to go! "I just take my job seriously, Niou-san."

They turned their heads away and were about to start up again to seal the deal when Sanada pulled himself out of his stupefaction; he went up behind Niou and clapped down on his shoulder hard. "Wait just a second, Niou. May I ask what in the world this is all about? And you, Miss, you seem familiar."

"Yeah, I'm sure I've seen you before," added Kirihara, having shuffled forward but still in some awed state at this whole turn of affair.

"You can ask," Niou said as he tuck out his tongue but then winced as Sanada's fingers silently tightened painfully. Sakuno just sighed to herself. Everyone she met on the tennis teams seemed to vaguely remember her but never got all the pieces to fit. She wondered if she really was that forgettable as she explained her presence at the training camp and who her grandmother was—people never forgot Grandma. She then told the two about the whole gamut of tribulation she was running through, starting with Atobe's surprise visit right up to the subsequent attacks.

On a normal day, and if it were any other coach, Sanada would have rebuked Niou and called him a traitor for fraternizing with The Enemy, but as he listened to her story he felt some of his hidden annoyance and anger fade. His eyes fixed on the girl, the granddaughter of his greatest rival middle school's coach who had been known as a good teacher, caring guide and worthy adversary. The girl herself seemed very sweet and demure and was apparently very good cook, all things the traditional Sanada thought suited women. But she had a spark of spirit in her as well, something enfolded within herself, and he could feel her integrity. His noble heart also began to bristle at her stories of what had been going on. Sanada could not abide such cowardice, especially not against innocent people like Ryuuzaki-san.

"That's really cheap of 'em," Kirihara hissed indignantly. "I mean, if I were mad enough at a girl to terrify her at least I'd be man enough to do it to her face!" He looked at Sakuno more carefully, fully recognizing her now. She'd hung out with that Tachibana girl (grrr) but she'd never done anything to him at the camp so she didn't have any bad marks against her as far as he could remember.

By no means were any of them particularly chivalrous, despite Sanada's strict moral codes that had been hammered into him from birth, but all three of the Rikkai Dai players knew an unfair fight when they saw it. Second, she had been a schoolmate of the dread Tezuka Kunimitsu, a player whom they admired and respected, rival or no. Thirdly, Ryuuzaki Sumire might kill them if they didn't help—never underestimate old lionesses like her, for they guarded their cubs the most fiercely. Fourthly, though none of them would ever admit to it, the girl was cute, radiated kindness like sunshine, and had such fresh, unladed mannerisms that it was appealing. Sanada spoke up for all of them.  
"We will help you, Ryuuzaki-san. We'll not stand by while this goes on. Rikkai Dai offers you its protection."

She gazed at their faces to detect any hesitancy or grudge and found nothing of the sort. Clapping her hands Sakuno started bouncing on the balls of her feet for relieved joy, hardly able to believe her good fortune.

Just then another volley of water balloons sailed towards the booth but they never even hit the ground near it. In a single fluid movement Sanada had swung a wooden bokuto out from his own bag and struck each balloon in mid-air, stepping aside so quickly that not one drop of water got on him. A terrible snarl crossed his face and the others could only watch as he darted off in the offenders' direction, waving his bokuto in a menacing manner. Akaya started rushing after his senior, hand cupped around his mouth as he yelled after them, eyes going a little red.

"That's right, get back, demon waifs! Shoo! Vamoose! Or we'll be forced to use extreme measures! Don't make us come out there! Go crying back to your daddies! We'll come after you and then your sisters and your mamas!"

The next thing she knew Sakuno heard shouting in the distance; she paled a little while Niou just laughed and laughed. Not too long after the other two returned as if fresh from a battle. Sanada had his bokuto resting lightly on his shoulder, grunting as he came near.

"Got three."

His junior companion, on the other hand, was totally fired up with some kind of unholy fervor. "Hell yeah and hot damn! Senpai, let's help Sakuno-chan with her predicament and protect her from the forces of eeeeeeeevil," Kirihara enthused. His grin stretched from ear to ear, tongue licking his lips, and his eyes glinted with the faintest touch of red. He had given up violence in tennis but that didn't mean he couldn't use force when other people needed his assistance. Sakuno mumbled distractedly as she pushed her fingertips together in apprehension. She now remembered why Rikkai Dai was so feared among the schools—how could she have forgotten that their players tended to like to _hurt _people?

Sanada gave a curt nod. "Yes, I suppose this will be a worthy cause. We must protect the innocent and give our respects to the granddaughter of the formidable Coach Ryuuzaki."

With that, Sanada reached into his pocket and pulled out two white headbands. Akaya pumped his fast when he received his and tied it around his messy curls happily. Sakuno quailed back a bit when she saw Kirihara's headband had KILL ON SIGHT written in fine calligraphic kanji across it and Sanada's had NO MERCY TO THE ENEMY. Niou groused that he wanted one too but Sanada just ignored him, saying that Niou couldn't be quite as conspicuous in case they needed his secret tricks as a last resort.

"This booth," Sanada continued with a hard glint in his eye not unlike those reserved for four-star generals, "must be rendered impenetrable at all costs. We must guard it with all our spirit and strength lest we lose our honor and become disgraced if Ryuuzaki-san's confidence in us be misplaced. Form a tight watch around it, Kirihara, and you stay in the booth, Niou, in case we need backup. Ryuuzaki-san, have no fear. We shall protect you. For this day, we are not high schoolers—we are bodyguards! You two: Crush all who dare challenge us!"

She was beginning to think this might not be such a good idea after all.

**PoT PoT PoT**

One of the many from the contingents of Hyotei/Atobe fangirls kept her sights on the booth where the wench who had so slighted Atobe-sama kept shop, selling her filthy wares of depravity and decadence. At an emergency fan meeting the most rabid members—and there were quite a few—had decided that the girl could not unpunished for her crimes against royalty. So several waves had been scheduled to stake occupy places in the square, concealed behind portico columns and shrubbery, and were going at staggered intervals. Soon her squads' turn would come up; they had to be in position and ready to strike with the new paint balloons.

Following a glance at her watch the Hyotei girl stalked to the next column, getting ever closer to the target. Five more to go before in throwing range. She turned her head to peek around the bricks just for a split second.

"BOOGA!"

The girl shrieked as a hand grasped the top of her hair, pulling her face up to look into the gleaming eyes of a messy-haired youth that had a smile like Satan himself. Kirihara tightened his grip so his fingers were tugging at her hair in an implicit threat against any wrong moves.

"So, Miss Fangirl!" he crowed. "Going out for a stroll, eh? Trying to do some mischief to poor Sakuno-chan's booth, hmm? Not on our watch, sister! Now—beat it! Or…" he leaned in, licking his lips as his devilish eyes reddened, "I'm gonna snatch you bald. You may be a she-demon, lady, but I am…BEELZEBUB, the king of devils! It's a bad day for you, baby!"

He shoved her away and watched her run off with a wicked laugh. He began jumping around on one foot as he made his way back to the area where the booths were. Being wicked never felt so good—and it was for a worthy cause, too.

"Evil, evil," he hummed to himself then stopped and threw out his hands with a full-blown belly laugh of the damned. "I am awash in eeeeeeevil!" He cocked his head to the side as he heard some more shrieking coming from a small area of bushes planted in a bed in the middle of the large sidewalk. He saw Sanada-fukubuchou charge into them suddenly, bokuto at his side; he doubted it'd remain passive there for long.

"For the honor of my ancestors! I must carry out my oath!"

A few seconds later a boy and girl in Hyotei uniforms bolted out from the bushes in abject terror. Luckily for Rikkai Dai this was Tokyo and nothing short of a platoon of flying monkeys sailing over town wearing Jukuhara clothes could make its citizens raise so much as an eyebrow. Thus the sight of a teenager in a black cap yelling out archaic war-cries, spouting out nonsense about honor and protection and whatnot, and waving a wooden sword around on occasion wasn't very noticeable, especially since Sanada was a cunning kendo beast who didn't ever hit anyone in obvious places with the wood or really hurt his quarry. Nevertheless, just one or two good whacks from a bokuto weren't very pleasant, as his victims could later testify. Not to mention Sanada could look almost as scary as Kirihara when he was mad, especially when he gnashed his teeth like the players in a kabuki. Unsettling!

"Having fun yet, fukubuchou?"

Sanada only grunted in response on their journey back to the booth. Business was a little bit slower at first since it wasn't very market-friendly to have your booth manned by assistants/bodyguards that either glared or smiled very suspiciously at you, but younger people (especially girls who had no mischief on their minds) weren't too put off by it.

The boys had decided to take turns with their shifts. Two would stay outside the booth and run interference when they detected any impending attack while the other stayed to make sure nothing happened to Sakuno's booth. Niou got to sit inside on the spare chair, watching the people go by, helping himself to any small treats Sakuno offered to him. She had told them that if they got hungry they could just take a few snacks or ask her to make something. Niou did not just sit like a bump, though—he was carefully scanning the nearby crowd to detect if any mischief makers were out there trying to pose as normal pedestrians. He was pretty sure that one small gaggle of non-uniformed high schoolers was from Hyotei and meant no good. It took a bastard to know a bastard, after all. These types were the hardest to take care of because it wouldn't look good for either Sanada or Kirihara to start whaling on them in broad daylight in the middle of the crowds.

"Yo, Sakuno-chan. Bogies at three o' clock."

Sakuno leaned out over the counter to look where he was pointing and felt a chill of menace from the slowly approaching group. Her lip felt the bite of her teeth. "You're right, Niou-san. Should I…?

"Do it. I'd use firecrackers myself, but for a novice like you I'd say the springy snakes are your best bet."

He handed her a small ball which, when thrown upon the ground, released a nice explosion of snake-springs which also released a bit of itching powder. Sakuno wound up, took aim, and then let that sucker fly. Unfortunately her throwing skills weren't so good and she missed the group by half a foot. An old lady with a cane almost tripped and a man started yelping, scratching at his legs which were laid bare by his shorts.

"Oops," she whispered, mortified.

"You're flicking your wrist the wrong way," said Niou in exasperation. "Let me show you how it's done. Fire in the hole!" He took a string of firecrackers from his kit and lit them in one smooth motion with his lighter; with one careless toss of his fingers the string sailed into the Hyotei group's midst and went off with some spectacular cracks. Everyone around them jumped, including Sakuno, who wasn't expecting it. A policeman quickly came over to start chewing the high schoolers out, thinking they had set it off.

Niou just leaned back. His nonchalant whistles matched the chirping of the birds.

Yes, Sakuno had to admire yet again, this boy was _good_.

**PoT PoT PoT**

When the next shift came up and it became Sanada's turn to sit in the shade, the four of them had become somewhat more accustomed to each other so that they could begin talking about their respective school experiences. Sakuno learned about the rest of the Rikkai Dai team and their little quirks and habits while she shared anecdotes about her Seigaku schoolmates. Then the conversation turned towards her own life; she told them about her clumsiness and her propensity for getting into trouble without lifting a finger. That made them chuckle—even Sanada. At her resulting pout Niou leaned in to look at her.

"I think, Sakuno-chan, that part of the problem comes from your own appearance and attitude. I mean, just look at you. Those girly braids—you're about to go into _high school_right?—and your cute blushy face and how small you are. Plus your posture is totally passive and meek. You couldn't look more harmless if you tried. And when they look at you, they don't see anything but a big grade-schooler who wouldn't hurt a fly. It's like hanging a sandwich board on you that says you like taking walks by the ducky pond and 'Bully me, please!' You're practically asking for it. Take it from me, I know what I'm talking about. I mean, if I was looking for a victim—I'm just being hypothetical here, don't look at me like that—you're exactly the kind that's the easiest pickings."

The revelation hit Sakuno's nerves a bit hard as made apparent by her unhappy frown and the way she self-consciously began trailing her hand up and down one of her braids. Niou surreptitiously stretched out to tug on the free one but he yelped as Sanada slapped it away with his bokuto.

"I just like my braids. I think they're pretty," she murmured. She wondered why people had always ragged on her braids ever since middle school.

Kirihara piped up with some defiance.

"They're cute, Niou-senpai. Pretty and long, too. What do you think, Sanada-fukubuchou?"

Sanada only glared. To set their minds away from her bullyableness Sakuno changed the subject to their victims.

"I just feel bad about scaring them like that."

Incredulous eyes turned to her, making her blush a little more. Niou then just rolled his eyes and turned away while Sanada addressed her.

"One should not take matters of personal safety and protection of property lightly, Ryuuzaki-san."  
"Besides, you're giving them way too much regard, Sakuno-chan. Do we have to remind you that these people have been trying to vandalize your booth for no good reason? If they're being mean like that you don't have to be nice to them back. And it's not just your booth; it belongs to that restaurant you work for, right? So that's another reason why you have to defend it," Akaya emended. "And we're not hurting them—just scaring them shi—"

"Kirihara!" barked Sanada, smacking his bokuto against his palm hard and glaring. Akaya immediately shut up but his lips were pouted in a sulk. Once more it was up to Sakuno to diffuse the situation with a resigned mind and a hand reaching for a small tea set side to the side.

"I suppose you're right, Akaya-san," she admitted. That earned her a grin and a happy pat on the head from him. "But it just seems a little excessive at times, that's all. Would you like some more tea, Sanada-san?"

Sanada nodded with a "Yes, please," and held out his cup for her to pour some more jasmine flavored tea into it carefully. They had all been rather surprised that she had tea to brew in the first place but Sanada especially had seemed pleased (one corner of his mouth lifted) and had drank several cups already that afternoon.

Sakuno had noticed that Sanada had a very ritualized way of drinking the tea, stirring it just an exact number of times and placing it in his hands just so and closing his eyes as if in deep thought before taking the slowest sips she had ever seen. It earned him several jibes from the peanut gallery that if he had wanted to go to a real tea ceremony he should have had her close shop and bring out a table, pillows, and kimonos for everyone. Sanada had just shrugged and looked away, though Sakuno thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of 'fifteen extra laps and a slap' under his breath before sipping.

"How come you get to sit inside on the chair with her for so long, Sanada-fukubuchou?" Kirihara complained. He was leaning against the side of the counter in a lazy attitude, puffing a stray lock of his crimped hair from his eyes. "I wanna sit too! I want some tea. I'm thirsty. I'm hot…"

His querulous remarks trailed off along with his voice as Sakuno immediately held out a stick of yakitori and a cup of cold iced tea in front of his face like they were lollipops. Kirihara beamed happily, the skewered meat automatically going into his mouth.

"Yum!" he hummed out through the meat in his teeth. "Thanks, Sakuno-chan! I love your yakitori!" Of course, with his stuffed mouth it sounded more like 'Fanks, Thakuno-than! I wub yr yakithori!' Sanada sent him a withering glancing-eyed gaze.

"Kirihara, don't talk with your mouth full. It is disrespectful."

"And gross," added Niou. "You're getting your li'l devil cootie-germs all over poor Sakuno. That's gotta be a major health hazard for anyone. Next thing we know she'll be coughing her lungs out and die and you'll be eating second-rate meat…IN JAIL! And don't think we'll bail you out either."

"Why not, senpai?" Akaya demanded with an indignant huff after he swallowed his meat per Sanada's orders. He looked disgruntled and Sakuno had a hunch that poor Akaya-san got a lot of ribbing from his older teammates. It seemed inevitable, since he was the youngest.

"Because you're a brat and nobody loves you," Niou cackled.

Sanada's eyebrow had developed a rather unsettling tick so Sakuno quickly refilled his tea since he seemed to like it so much. The older boy nodded his thanks silently then closed his eyes again to sip from the delicate porcelain cup. He then nibbled on a piece from a sushi platter she'd reserved for the three boys; he had eaten quite a few of them. Also, Sanada tended to bypass over the more modern deserts made with chocolate, choosing things like sakura-mochi and _kinton_ with extra chestnuts.

"You make very good tea, Ryuuzaki-san. Almost as good as my mother's when she makes it for the family. She makes it in a more traditional way, though. And that's best." he said unexpectedly. Sakuno started in place but then graced with him a happy smile. Men like Sanada didn't lie to spare others' feelings so he had to be truthful in his appreciation.

"I'm glad you like it. Do you ever go to tea ceremonies, Sanada-san? Grandma sometimes tells me about them. She once showed me how to perform one with my older relatives but I never get to practice much."

"I do. My mother and grandmother hold them constantly at our dojo. Some of the best time I've had are at the family tea ceremonies," he informed her authoritatively. A small smile crossed his face. "We go out in the back under the cherry trees and set up near our statue of Okubo Toshimichi—my ancestors knew him in the past, during the Meiji period, and once even entertained him. A great samurai."

She blinked at him, a little bemused. "You have a statue of Okubo Toshimichi in your back yard?"

Niou warned her not to let him get started, but it was too late. Sanada was now blissfully in lecture mode and sung the praises of the great samurai, telling all sorts of trivia about how he would hardly ever sleep but go out barefoot in the snow to keep awake so he could study his texts, how great of a giant man he was, how noble, the circumstances of his _hara-kiri_, every little thing. It was as if he knew them by heart. The stories he told combined with the heady tea and the soft music from the radio seemed to put the young man in some kind of calm yet ecstatic state, perhaps some kind of strange Zen thing. Sakuno couldn't help but admire how peaceful Sanada's countenance was as his voice trailed off and he basked in all things traditional, looking calm and collected as one going into Nirvana.

The other two were less than impressed; they'd obviously seen or heard of this before. Niou muttered something about 'Okubo fanboy' before approaching behind her, slipping over the counter to get inside the booth.

"Hey, wanna see something cool?"

Before she could answer or stop him Niou had reached into his pocket and produced one of those certain kinds of alkaline tablets people take for indigestion. In one smooth motion he slipped it between Sanada's lips.

"Fanboy foam!"

Sanada jumped up with a roar and Sakuno squeaked, too terrified to do anything for a second while foam spewed from Sanada's open mouth like he were some kind of rabid beast. She made a grab for some napkins to hold out with shaking hand. Sanada spat the tablet into them and wiped off his face. When it was uncovered again to her great shock Sanada was grinning, grinning widely with burning eyes that landed on Niou. It was so very discordant with his stoic personality that the smile was even scarier than Fuji-senpai's. His right hand lifted but he clasped it with his left, holding back from giving Niou the beating of a lifetime. Niou paled a little.

"Now, now, Sanada-fukubuchou, remember there's a lady present."

He stopped grinning but Sanada's eyes continued to burn with terrible promises. "Indeed. Just wait till we're out of such esteemed company, Niou. I'll deal with you later. In the meantime I'll content myself with pondering about your afterlife."

Niou looked like he had just been given an execution sentence. Desperate, Sakuno decided to do what she could and asked one of them to accompany her to the restrooms about a block down. Sanada agreed, unhappy as he was at the prospect of waiting outside the women's bathrooms like some kind of pervert, but as long as there were no murders in her booth that day Sakuno was willing to risk it.

Along the way he shoved people their age out of their way if one got too close to her and even yelled at a puppy she almost tripped over. She should have just let him take his bad mood out on Niou-san.

**PoT PoT PoT**

While Sanada and Niou took their turns doing the stake-out Sakuno fell into conversation with Kirihara. He was the closest to her age and the friendliest towards her and, when he wasn't acting like the devil's cabana boy, had an easy-going manner she felt most comfortable with. He chattered to her and she chatted back with a good rapport that she didn't share with many people not well known to her.

"So," he said as they broached the subject of school, "you'll be going to Seishun High, I bet. And you'll go to the tennis games?  
"I—I think so," Sakuno responded after giving a buyer his food, "Grandma always told me to be supportive of them even when they stopped being her students. They're my senpai, after all. And they take good care of me when I'm at school." She rubbed her head with a sheepish smile. "I told you I get in trouble a lot. Actually, it finds _me _but it doesn't change the outcome. Grandma and the senpai and Ryoma-kun always said I needed to be nailed to the floor by my braids so I couldn't go anywhere!"

He chuckled but then looked a little puzzled. "Ryoma-kun? Who's that? Wait—wasn't that Echizen brat named Ryoma? Are you talking about him?" She nodded. "I thought he was in America now."

"He is. I haven't seen him in a while." Sakuno looked around as if there were spies about to pounce on her every word now that things were getting a bit personal. She remembered how sometimes the senpai used to stalk her and Ryoma in middle school. "To tell the truth, Akaya-kun, I really miss him sometimes. He got me interested in tennis first and saved me from some bullies the first day I met him. Did you know that?"

"No," he said shortly. "I always thought he was a major brat. Thought he was better than anyone else. What do you see in him? But it's strange, you know, if you were his girl then why didn't he hang around you more often? I don't recall any rumors about you two being together. And Yanagi-senpai would know. He knows everything." He stopped when he saw her face was completely cherry red and she was flapping her hands at him in utmost embarrassment.

"No, Akaya-kun, I wasn't his girlfriend! We never…that is…we sometimes went to get our racquets strung…I'm his friend…I'm really fond of him…B-but!" Her face fell a little. "I don't think he liked me in that way very much. He's really nice in his own way, I swear—please don't look at me like that, it's true—and he helped me out a lot, but he was always more interested in tennis and hung out with the senpai more than he did with me." Now her look was completely crestfallen. "He never noticed me that much. I once made him a bento and he couldn't even look away long enough from a match to tell me he liked it. I just couldn't compete. I _shouldn't _compete. I mean, he loves tennis and he's happy playing in America now. But I hope that when he comes back we can be friends again. It's all I really wanted, anyway, Akaya-kun.

"I know how you feel, Sakuno-chan. I work my butt off to do really well for the team but it's always been the Big Three, you know? We've always been pals since middle school but I sometimes still think they look at me as some kind of baby. It's really frustrating, too, because I want to beat at least one of them just once so badly, but I haven't done it in a real match yet. I'm trying so hard but those guys just don't seem to give a damn. Sanada-fukubuchou's always yelling at me to do better and slaps me around like a baby. And then there's my being the youngest in the family…It's like I'll never get any real respect. My best never seem good enough, you know? And sometimes it just makes me so damn—"

"Angry?" she finished timidly for him. She could remember the tales of his cruelty on the courts, especially what he had done to Tachibana Kippei.

They stared at each other. Suddenly overcome by emotion they flung their arms around each other in the gesture of acceptance that only two spirits who had suffered the same indignities could achieve. Both of them had watery tears threatening to leak down their cheeks in rivers.

"So this is what it's like—" Sakuno began.

"...When doves cry!"

A strange sensation of being watched washed over them and they turned to find the other two Rikkai Dai boys gawking in at them. Sanada arched an eyebrow.

"Is everything all right in here, Kirihara?" asked Niou.

The curly-headed rascal nodded happily, releasing the beet-red Sakuno easily. "Yep. Sakuno-chan said she likes me best! And that you have to pay my bus fare, Niou-senpai. And I get your seat now; it's your turn to go out. And you smell. And—"

"Shut up, brat!"

As the three argued, Sakuno just sat back, wondering why there were no normal high school tennis players in the world.

Almost too quickly closing-time arrived. There had been no major mishaps ever since that morning, so Sakuno considered it a job well done. The receipts for that day hadn't been as profitable for the norm but she knew if she hadn't asked for the help, firecrackers, threatening headbands, and bokutos or no, the take would be even lower. The Rikkai Dai boys helped her close up, in no great hurry themselves because their practice wouldn't be until later in the evening. Niou had also graciously replaced the ruined lock with an extra special, crack-safe one. As they all stood together in the fading afternoon light she bowed once more to them and he braids bobbed with the motion, making Niou flinch.

"It was so much fun working with you all," Sakuno smiled at them, her words genuine. It had been very odd but it had been anything but dull that afternoon. She bowed to them all. "I really can't thank you enough. With the examples shown today and the supplies from Niou-san, I don't think I'll have any more problems."

"It was the least we could do," Sanada said quietly and Niou and Kirihara nodded. The curly-haired boy looked over at her with something like a small sense of loss.

"It was really fun helping out, Sakuno-chan. Almost makes me wish we didn't have to go back so soon."

"You're welcome to come back anytime," Sakuno smiled at him. "I'm sure we'll see each other again before the break is out, and then when the tennis season starts again maybe there'll be another invitational camp. I guess then—oh!"

Giving her forehead a little slap for almost forgetting, Sakuno opened up her booth again and went inside to come out a few minutes later with a tower of boxes stacked on one another. The boys gazed at them curiously. "This is in thanks for helping me today. Think of it as paying my bodyguards their wages."

Sakuno opened up the first three boxes to show full bento meals for all of them made according to taste, which meant both Akaya and Sanada had lots of sushi and meat in their boxes. "This is for all three of you, one for each. I guess you can either eat them on the bus back or have them for lunch tomorrow. And this," she opened another box to show extra-spicy pork strips barbequed and set on skewers, "is for Jackal-san, since his family is from Brazil and they eat a lot of pork there. It's pretty spicy so I hope he can handle it. But the Brazilians like spicy things…" she trailed off nervously before opening the fifth box. "And this is for Yukimura-san, a yakiniku sampler because he always looked like he needed more iron in his diet if you ask me. But if he doesn't like meat…I put some vegetables on the skewers too. These are some drink ingredients for Yanagi-san, since I heard he's pretty similar to Inui-senpai…another bento for Yagyuu-san… And this cake is for Marui-san, since you told me how much he likes them. I just hope he likes chocolate."

"He does. I bet he really wishes he came with us today. Sakuno-chan is too kind," grinned Akaya, taking the cake box and putting it under his own bento. "I'll make sure this is safe and sound, yep! Hey! Sanada-fukubuchou, what was that for?"

Sanada put the cake box he had swiped without the dignity of an explanation from Kirihara's grip under his own bento with a stern glare, saying nothing. It was pretty obvious what he and Niou both thought of their junior ace's cake-guarding aptitude level was. The tall vice-captain inclined his upper body formally to her.

"We thank you for your generosity, Ryuuzaki-san. It was the least we could do. Hopefully you will not be troubled any longer."

Niou pointed to the small store of fireworks and such she had bartered from him. "And if they do, just remember to use those. Call me if you run low."

"You can call on any of us if you need," Sanada added. He then frowned. "And next time ask for help from your senpai or that restaurant from time to time. No one should have to face those things alone. You can tell Tezuka from me that he's got a long way to go when it comes to looking out for his juniors."

Sakuno thought that a rather unfair thing to say about Tezuka—it wasn't as if he were obliged to look out for her any more. She wasn't a baby and he was probably busy with summer training himself, as well as the added stress of being a last-year student who needed to prepare for college entrance exams. He couldn't be bothered, she thought, and she quietly told the Rikkai Dai boys so. Sanada only scoffed before the three of them departed, Kirihara waving back at her at intervals. Suddenly Niou, having turned back, ran towards her. His bangs hid his eyes in a shroud of mystery.

"Sakuno-chan, can I ask just one last favor?"

At her nod his hand snapped out and pulled on her right pigtail firmly. It wasn't very painful yet the suddenness got a squeak out of her. Sakuno glared at him, rubbing the side of her prickling scalp.

"OW! Niou-san!"

He just ran away laughing, leaving the girl behind to just huff out before collecting her things to meet her grandmother. The three Rikkai Dai players congregated around the pole at the nearest bus stop, loaded down with goodies and feeling righteous and heady with their kind deeds. Niou felt a tap on his shoulder, which brought his head around to nearly smack into Sanada's open palm that hovered dangerously close to his face. Niou laughed weakly in a paltry plea for mercy; unfortunately, Sanada was all mercied out. He wasn't even smiling, yet his eyes held a gleam of heady anticipation. Akaya stared, waiting for the great bitch-slapping fest to begin. It was always funny to watch when it wasn't him on the business end of Sanada's discipline.

"This is going to be sweet," said Sanada.

**PoT PoT PoT**

The afternoon bus back to Kanagawa had many empty seats so that the three boys had no trouble in sitting next to each other. Even Sanada had taken a little bit of sushi from his meal, unable to wait until after their practice. Niou's cheeks were too swollen to eat comfortably but even so he couldn't resist a few bites; the pleasure outweighed the pain.

"Well, that was an interesting day. I suppose the others will be crazy out of their minds with jealousy when they see what we got for our helping Sakuno-chan," Niou remarked in a voice as lazy as his slouched posture. His bruised cheeks were still stinging but at least the torture session was over.

Akaya nodded his head stoutly as he chewed on a piece of tempura shrimp. "I like her! She's really shy but I think that's kinda cute, don't you think? She's cheerful enough and really nice—she doesn't fake it. If I had to beat up people for anyone again, senpai, it'd definitely be Sakuno-chan!"

"How sweet," Niou deadpanned as he bit off some of his own food. Almost seventeen and the kid still didn't act his age sometimes. Sanada settled for giving their junior a frosty, disapproving look.

"But I had lots of fun, too. I hope we can come back to Tokyo and see her next week. We could bring the rest of the team to try her snacks in person. It'd be a good thing for everyone! They'd love her," Akaya persisted eagerly, bouncing in place on his seat as he normally did when thinking excited thoughts about the future.

"Gods forbid she meet the rest of you. We don't need to be bothering her like that. Today was as troublesome enough as it was."

"Aw, come on, Sanada," Niou laughed. "Don't try and tell me you didn't get a belt out of kicking ass today."

"I did it because it was the right thing to do."

Niou nodded sagely. "That girl needs all the help she can get. She'd be eaten alive otherwise. She's too naïve—except when she's bartering." He looked mournfully at his lightened bag.

"Well, it's not her fault Atobe's little fanclub from Hyotei is so damn fanatic," Kirihara protested. "Even I'm not that evil. Picking on nice girls like Sakuno-chan!"

"You pick on girls all the time, Kirihara."

"So do you, Niou-senpai. And I'd never do what they did. Buncha cowards."

The mention of Atobe jolted Sanada into doing something he had been planning to do all day but had never gotten the time to. He reached into his jacket to pull out his cell phone and dialed a number he really didn't like to call but right now he had no choice.

"Speaking of which, I need to take care of this," he said aloud to them before he went back to his conversation. "Hello, is Atobe Keigo there, please? May I speak to him? Tell him it's Sanada. Thank you…Hey, Atobe. It's me. I have to talk to you. Yes…yes…Sure, call up Tezuka. I have something to say that concerns him as well. It can be a sort of conference call." His fingers began drumming to while away the time; the other two boys figured rightly Atobe was going on his usual blather about his greatness, threatening Rikkai Dai with losing in the next Nationals, yadda yadda blah blah bloogity bloo.

When there was finally a space in the logorrhea Sanada took his chance.

"Listen, Atobe, I have to talk to you about that little fan club of yours and what they've been doing to a girl named Ryuuzaki Sakuno. Is Tezuka on your other line now? Good. You be sure to pass this on to him..."

**PoT PoT**

"So, Sakuno," her grandmother said warmly as Sakuno piled into the car with her goods, "how was your day today?"

She beamed. "Just fine!"

"Anything interesting happen?"

A few minutes later, if anyone wondered why there was a car parked on the side of the road and that and old woman seemed to be chewing a much younger person out inside, nobody stopped to investigate more closely.

_End of Adventure 2! I hope it was enjoyable and that Sanada especially wasn't too out of character. I like to think that he would be a major fan of the great samurai of old. Thank you, Sanada, for letting me sacrifice your dignity on the altar of Comedy. Now with some minor edits in both chapters. Thanks to my reviewers who point out my stupid little mistakes. :)  
_

_Next chapter: Are you honkerin'…for a GLOMPERIN'? Because Eiji, Fuji, and the old Seigaku team are coming in the next chapter. Stay tuned. _


	3. Adventure 3: Seigaku Cycle of Samsara

_On the question of pairings: this is going to be a pretty open-ended story, so I make no promises. I love putting in hints but they're all still so young the possibilities are endless! It's a whole bishounen buffet—who can decide?! For now just enjoy this new chapter. And if you don't enjoy, well…TOO BAD!_

**Sakuno Adventure #3: The Seigaku Cycle of Samsara**

To walk in the mid-morning summer warmth held a delight that almost defied explanation. To walk with a good friend, the solid presence like an extension of you, was utterly indescribable. Yet even one not so ready with eloquent words like Sakuno could sum up her current situation.

"This is really embarrassing." Sakuno tilted her head up to regard her companion helplessly; it was like being twelve all over again. "I'm very glad you're here but I wish you didn't have to do this, Taka-san."

The older boy was in much better humor, so he just laughed in his kind way at her while he rattled the large cooler in his arms easily. Takashi Kawamura hadn't grown much taller since middle school but he had gotten quite a bit broader his shoulders so that he looked more like an ex-football player. You would have hardly guessed he once played tennis on a premier middle school team and still kept his hand in with weekly practice. One thing that had not changed, however, was his face, wide and friendly, radiating gentleness.

"It's no problem, Sakuno-chan. I'm happy to help. And besides, don't you think it kinda gets boring when business is slow and you don't have anyone to talk to?"

"I love having you around, Taka-san, I do! But the bullies should be—"

Taka gave her a slightly chiding expression but still smiled. "Rikkai Dai did you a nice favor, Sakuno-chan, but as your employers we're obligated to take care of you when you're in trouble. Coach Ryuuzaki made it perfectly clear when she called us this morning. I thought my dad would go deaf. I don't think the ringing in his ears has stopped yet."

Personally, Sakuno thought that the old friendship bonds that had been woven between her grandmother and Kawamura Sr. had provided the main source of protection against the full brunt of Ryuuzaki Sumire's wrath. Her Grandma had been very upset, had even grounded _her_ for the next weekend (Sakuno was only glad she hadn't told about the firecrackers). Mr. Kawamura should have counted himself lucky had he only gotten something of a tongue-lashing. Fortunately for him he had managed to mollify the grandmothership with profuse apologies and promises, so their friendship would restore its equilibrium soon enough.

"She also said she'd kick me in the butt so hard I'd look like a hunchback if I didn't keep an eye out for you because it was my duty as your co-worker and senior. Coach can be kinda mean when she's mad, huh, Sakuno-chan?"

"She said that to you, Taka-san?" Sakuno felt mortified for his sake; Taka-san, so mild when not on the courts, was the last person she would ever want to be subjected to a lecture of that sort. She knew he took his duties very seriously. Being charged with dereliction must have distressed him greatly. With a shy hand Sakuno touched his sleeve, fingertips barely pressing on the fabric.

"I'm sorry that she said that to you, Taka-san. I'm sure Grandma didn't really mean it. She gets overwrought sometimes, you know. And—well, did she sound a little—_fuzzy _to you? Because she's usually not that mean unless—"

"She sounded a little heavy on the saké, yeah."

Sakuno gave a resigned sigh. Why her grandmother had thought only a few minor cases of bullying worth getting somewhat tipsy over was beyond her ken. "Sometimes she still has a few drinks when she's upset. I must have made her pretty wound up because I saw a whole empty bottle on the table this morning before we had breakfast."

A small pat on the shoulder came as his initial response, Taka's gentle brown eyes sympathetic. "It's all right, Sakuno-chan. Vandalism and bullying aren't things we can ignore. I'm glad to be here, okay? Also, you did remember your cell phone this time, just in case, right?"

Sakuno said nothing but raised up her hand, which had her petite pink phone snugly fitted to her hand with a role of duct tape. Taka took one glance and then just laughed while Sakuno waited it out with the patience of one used to such things.

"Sometimes I think I have the most sarcastic Grandma in the world, Taka-san."

"At least she's looking out for you," he chuckled. That seemed to bring another thought to mind and he spoke again, thick brows furrowed. "Oh yes, Sakuno-chan, I should also tell you that I won't be the only one with you today. I received word that Coach Ryuuzaki—"

His voice trailed off, eyes growing distant, and Sakuno tried to search for what they were currently focused on, her heart rate now accelerated in her concern. Taka-san had a good attention span and did not just trail off without good cause. It took a few seconds for her to find where he was looking; when she did, several emotions vied for supremacy in her stomach. Surprised delight quickly won out.

A small group had congregated around her booth, immediately familiar; Sakuno called out their names and quickened her pace along with Taka's to reach them. All of her old middle school senpai in the tennis club were there; she could have spotted Kaidoh's bandanna, Eiji's bouncing, and all of their other collective and individual traits anywhere. They turned to greet them, Tezuka-buchou at their head. Taka reached them first thanks to his longer stride and he acted taken aback.

"Tezuka! I thought Coach said she was only going to ask you to help out," he said, staring from his old captain to the other Seigaku High Regulars. Tezuka, his arms folded in the usual manner, hardly gave his team a glance. Whether this was out of mortification, annoyance, or any mixture of emotions was unclear.

"That was the initial plan."

"What happened?"

"I went out of the house."

Sakuno tilted her head in wonderment; though she had her suspicions that sometimes her senpai liked to stalk people, she had had no direct experience with the amazing communication systems the regulars could set up between themselves, nor did she know the extent of their vast affection for snooping into others' business. Taka slapped his forehead, sliding his hand down slowly so that it stretched his facial features.

"I should have known. Are the rest of you really _that_ bored?"

"That's what buchou said too," said Momo, his face in his normal easy grin. "But we also wanted to see Sakuno-chan and try to help her out. We learned about what those jerks from Hyotei were doing."

"Renji told me everything that he heard from Kirihara and Niou's account of what transpired," Inui interjected. He flipped out his trusty data book (Sakuno wondered how many he had gone through these past few years) to the most recent pages. "I calculated that after Sanada dealt with them that the chances of another fan attack on Ryuuzaki would be eighteen percent. Still, the likelihood that Coach Ryuuzaki would till ask Tezuka to help was 95 percent."

Kaidoh rolled his eyes and hissed at the other two but quietly put in his own opinion. "It's not good to leave a kohai in danger. And since Ryuuzaki-san will be our kohai again next semester, it was right for us to do this."

Fuji was the last to answer with his own reasons, moving forward to stand behind Tezuka in silence and let the full force of his quiet smile shine on Sakuno. "Besides, things have gotten a bit boring ever since Echizen left us. Tezuka is the most fun to trail after now that he's gone. Right, Tezuka?" No response to the bait. "And what's wrong with dropping in to say hi to Sakuno-chan? I always wanted to see this offshoot of the restaurant and where she works."

A bouncing ball of red-headed activity suddenly leapt in front of Sakuno, making her fall back a few steps. She really did wish that Eiji wouldn't move so quickly and dance around all the time because it made him so much harder to keep an eye on. It was amazing how much energy the boy was capable of expending. Sakuno once had tried asking him about how much sugar he consumed in a day but even Eiji could only count so high.

"And we wanted to see Sakuno-chan! Hoi hoi, Sakuno-chan! It's been like forever since we last saw you! You just get cuter and cuter every time, nyah!"

Once her shock had dissipated Sakuno gave a small chuckle as she moved to the back of the booth to open up for the day. "Ah, Eiji-sempai—you came back into the kitchen to talk just last week."

"A week is like forever in Eiji time! Nyah!" he persisted, bouncing after her on the balls of his feet like a dancer. "And without my Ochibi to hug, you're the most glompable person in the whole country. Now come here and let me hug you, nyah! Feel my love!"

Without further preamble Sakuno braced herself for the impact as she felt Eiji almost literally pounce on top of her so he could twine his arms about her in an unbreakable hold. He leaned forward a little so she had to fight to keep her balance as his weight pressed down on her. Eiji wasn't a large person but Sakuno's strength could not sustain him for long. It was only made worse by the fact that Eiji wiggled around a lot as he sounded off his normal Eiji-speak routine. Sakuno panted for air. How could Oishi-senpai, she thought frantically, have endured this treatment almost every single school day for years on end? She wouldn't be surprised if he developed back problems later on in life.

"Don't lean so hard on her, Eiji. Why don't you hold her more to you instead?" the object of her immediate thoughts counseled gently as he tried to help extricate Sakuno from the death-glomp. Eiji gave her a big hug as advised and then immediately started jumping onto Oishi's back, calling him a spoilsport and wet blanket and such. As he jabbered happily Sakuno whispered to her ever patient senior, wondering how he did it. In response Oishi just shrugged his burdened shoulders helplessly.

"I'm used to it, Ryuuzaki-chan. Over time you learn how to just close your eyes and tell yourself 'This just isn't happening to me.' It works like a charm."

"Nyah, Oishi, what does that mean?"

"Don't worry too much about it, Eiji," Fuji consoled. "Why don't you let go of Oishi for a moment—he's looking a bit green and we need him alive for the next season. We already have Arai as a regular; we don't need that much more new blood."

It was comforting for Sakuno to think, as she put the undone lock in her pocket, that the cornucopia of wackiness that was her old middle school tennis team seemed to have no end in sight. Once you got used to the noise they made, it could actually be pleasant.

"We also found these placed at the back door of the booth for you," Said Tezuka. He turned and produced a large bouquet of multi-colored roses sprinkled with white baby's breath, dark violet pansies, and delicate foxgloves. It was all very tastefully arranged; Sakuno wondered how much Atobe (for it could have been none other than he) had paid for it. Of course, it was probably just spare change to him.  
There was a card attached with her name inscribed in calligraphy in what appeared to be gold ink. Sakuno opened up the envelope with some trepidation--who knew what kind of things Atobe was capable of writing? She read the note, written in handwriting fine as copper plate:

_"Dear Ryuuzaki-san.  
Ore-sama has sent you these flowers as a token of Ore-sama's graceful yet  
deep regrets for his fan club's harassing of you. Please rest assured that they will trouble you no longer. Please have your grandmother or employer send a bill to Ore-sama's home and any damages will be paid for. Also, Ore-sama begs you not to send your honored but very, very frightening grandmother in person to his school. Once again, many apologies for any undue stress the fan club might have caused."  
There was a very elegant signature (so stylized she could hardly read it) and then a postscript:  
"PS: Ore-sama was given a taste of your pastries by one of his teammates and  
found your cooking quite delicious for a plebian treat. Neh, Kabaji?  
Ossu. (This was written in another hand)  
Kabaji agrees, so rest assured, Sakuno-chan, Ore-sama will one day return to sample more of your delicacies. This is the word of Atobe Keigo! Be awed by Ore-sama's approval!"_

Sakuno reread the note, trying not to laugh out loud, but unbeknownst to her the other Regulars had silently convened behind her to take a look. Tezuka was obviously making an effort at keeping his stone face; Fuji seemed totally amused while the others had something akin to queasiness mixed in with their own amusement.

"Sweet merciful gods," said Momo, "he actually writes like he _talks_."

"I'm more surprised that he actually got Kabaji to write in it," said Inui. He was copying down the exact words of the note in shorthand.

The scent of the mixed flowers wafted up to Sakuno's nose, which found their bouquet quite agreeable; there weren't so many roses in it as to make the fragrance overwhelmingly cloying. She brushed a fingertip gently against one of the foxgloves as she read over the note again, feeling a small thrill of warmth. Nobody outside the family had ever sent her such nice flowers and, despite everything, Atobe seemed genuinely contrite. She spoke aloud as she considered.

"I just suppose he needs someone to approve of him most of the time—that's just the way Atobe-san is. I'm just sorry he's so afraid of Grandma now. He's really not so bad after all. Tezuka-buchou, could you help me take these inside, please?"

Tezuka regarded the flowers, now that he knew definitely who they were from, with some measure of stoic distaste as if just touching the flowers would send a secret message to Atobe, who would then arrive immediately on the spot to challenge him to a match. Before she put the note back among the flowers Sakuno noticed another small note on the back of the card.

"Oh, how nice! Kabaji-san wrote me a small note of his own," she said after a brief reading. "He says that he's sorry for not trying harder to stop Atobe-san from taking the bento and that he'll never let it happen again."

Momoshiro began laughing at that, which Sakuno privately didn't much appreciate; in her mind Kabaji had written in a very sincere manner. "The day Kabaji disagrees with Atobe will be the day ol' Viper here stops his hissing act. What'll he do, say nothing instead of 'ossu'?"

"I wish you'd do the same and shut up forever, fool." The response from Kaidoh towards such bait was inevitable. Yes, their rivalry till was thriving and healthy over the past year; Sakuno sometimes did ponder on what had happened between them that caused the little spat to begin but she wasn't a gossip. She had heard rumors that dealt with a kitten of Kaidoh's and a Momoshiro who had been a little too giddy in delighting in his new ten-speed bike, but so far they hadn't been substantiated. Before too long the upcoming sophomores both grappled each other by the collar, insults flying.

Sakuno began to wring her hands in discomfort at the conflict, having by this time slipped in through the back to get into the booth proper. From behind the counter she could see Oishi trying to be diplomatic and separate the two but not having much luck at it. It just didn't look good; no one would come by the booth when two boys were on the verge of having a fistfight in front of it.

"Guys, come on, this is gonna be bad for business," Taka muttered shame-facedly. However, since there were tennis players everywhere but not a single racquet to hold Taka could not find a way to enter his infamous Burning Mode and intimidate them into silence.

"Ah, they're almost beyond help. Perhaps something must be done, Tezuka?" Fuji clucked his tongue at the captain, whose eyebrow had developed a miniscule twitch. "Or do you want me to handle it?"

"I will. You two! Stop your bickering!" Tezuka's deep voice sliced through the air like fine steel; both combatants immediately released their holds. Momo was especially grateful since Kaidoh had managed to get him into a headlock.

"You have too much energy, it seems. I won't have you stand here and drive away the Kawamuras' business. Perhaps we should burn off some of that energy, put it to good use, and let you two go out through the square to make sure no mischief-makers are about."

Momoshiro protested, quite vocally, that after Rikkai Dai's visit and Atobe's promise that any fanatic fans who would do harm to the booth were virtually non-existent. Kaidoh just glared while Inui backed up the claim with statistics. However, Inui amended, the chances were still not one hundred percent that no delinquents were about; he suggested some scouts would decrease the odd even further. When Momo protested again Fuji stepped forth.

"There's one way we can reach a compromise. This is what I suggest. You two, Momo and Kaidoh, can either do this necessary favor for us, or you can support Sakuno-chan by taking some of her treats and eating them in front of people to show how good they are. And," he grinned even wider, "I will do so as well. Sakuno-chan, have you made any of my favorite rolls today?"

Sakuno peered at that perpetual smile with no small amount of wariness. Since most normal people didn't have iron coated taste buds unlike someone she knew wasabi rolls weren't the best seller among the Kawamuras' menu. Most of Fuji's odd requests she made on demand, but occasionally wasabi rolls did sell, so she had made a few this very morning.

Compelled by his soft words of request and that hypnotic smile, she selected the wasabi rolls for him, carefully arranging them on a paper plate. Sakuno adored her smiling senpai but she knew she would never, ever want to get on Fuji Syuusuke's bad side, not in a million years. Most people who did came out very badly indeed. She didn't believe it herself, but some people a few months ago had started a rumor that Fuji once had dug up a secret so embarrassing on Mizuki of St. Rudolph that he'd had to skip town for a month to 'visit relatives.' She didn't want that to ever be a remote possibility for her own sake; she had done far too many boneheaded things that he'd have an endless supply of ammo.

"I think I'll also have the pepper sauce to dip them in today, Sakuno-chan. You know I adore your pepper sauce. I'd like them swimming in it too, please."

Sakuno did gawk at him then, knowing he was up to something but unable to get his drift yet. Spicy foods had been a weak point of hers when she first started cooking in earnest, so during her experiments in the kitchen about a year or so ago she had accidentally come upon a fearsome concoction that involved three kinds of peppers, Tabasco sauce, and a dash of the most potent horseradish. It had started out as something harmless, as most deadly weapons do; she couldn't even take a single taste of it herself, since only sniffing it had sent her reeling. She'd later told Fuji-senpai about it (perhaps foolishly) and he had actually wanted to try it. Even he could hardly stand more than a light coat of it on his sushi but he seemed to love it. And so she kept a small bottle full of it always handy, just in case he wanted it. Sakuno's shaking hand reached for the small bottle in her food chest and poured out a small dollop onto a sauce tray.

After selecting a roll and dipping one side, Fuji submerged it once more into its fiery puddle with his chopsticks in the most nonchalant way, as if singeing his taste buds was as enjoyable as ice-cream at a fair. He hovered it in the air just for a split second, and then swooped it up towards his mouth in a graceful motion. It disappeared through his lips without hesitation. Oishi cringed and Kaidoh hissed for fear. Fuji's face remained perfectly placid as he worked his jaw silently.

"This can't be happening, we should get some water," Oishi muttered, face pale. Inui, however, seemed less worried and rather perplexed.

"I don't understand it," he whispered as he scribbled away in his data book. "By all logic and scientific theories, steam should be coming out of his ears."

"Nyah, Fuji, how is it? You're not poisoning yourself, are you?"

Fuji's jaw stopped its subtle motion. Sakuno looked up into his face with some anxiety to see the barest tinge of red on the lining of his closed eyelids; all at once a single tear dripped down from the corner of his eye. Still smiling, he lifted his hand and gave her a thumb's up.

"Perfect." He turned to his juniors, holding out the saucer. "And so: you can either search around, or you can sample this in front of customers and support Sakuno-chan and Taka-san. What's your choice, gentlemen?"

Kaidoh and Momoshiro could not hightail it out of there fast enough. Their faces were twisted in dread at the thought of needing skin grafts on their tongues and holes in their esophagi patched up. Sakuno could not contain her own shiver at the inhuman feat Fuji-senpai had done. To be fair, she had to concede that he acted somewhat normally after the two underclassmen had left by asking calmly for a _lot _of cold tea with some milk added to wash things down. Sakuno fidgeted with her hands as she became increasingly self-conscious that she still had quite a few escorts left over.

"It—It's okay if all of you really don't want to stay since the bullies shouldn't come back," she stammered out. "I wouldn't want to keep you."

"I doubt all of us will stay for your whole shift," answered Tezuka. "Once they're done I'd wager Kaidoh and Momoshiro will go their own ways. But the rest of you aside from Taka—since there's no further reason for you to be here, you can go too."

She was taken aback somewhat when Inui responded that this would be a good data-gathering opportunity and that maybe Sakuno would be interested in adding some of his juices to the menu, which sounded like marketing poison if she ever heard it. Then Eiji declared he wanted to stay and chat and eat food. If Eiji stayed then Oishi was bound to hang around, if only to keep an eye out so that Eiji didn't do anything too disastrous for the booth such as tackle unsuspecting customers. Fuji gave no real answer at all, just said it was too nice a day to be stuck indoors.

"Fun times, nyah! But what I can't wait for is for you to come to our high school, Sakuno-chan. It'll be just like old times, nyah, and you'll be our kohai again for reals! You'll still support the team, nyah? And make us tasty treats like you used to do?"

To keep from being jumped upon again as he grilled for an answer, Sakuno only smiled and assured him that it would only be a matter of course that she would support them in their tennis however she could. It sometimes had made her self-depreciating in middle school that Tomo-chan was so much better at being a real cheerleader (Inui once determined Tomoka's voice could be heard from 100 meters away) and was the better tennis player in general; her friend really was the most noticeable of the freshmen group. In order to fill the void left by her own quietly squeaky presence, Sakuno had switched her way of doing things so that she played to her strengths. So far that only encompassed cooking and drawing.

It was not much, in Sakuno's own opinion, but she had to do what she could, whether it be designing and drawing posters to wave at the games or supplying treats. When it all boiled down to the essence of things, beyond all of her little insecurities that still dogged her, Sakuno could at least say this with conviction: no one who approached her for support came away empty-handed.

As she rifled through her bags for her spare utensils, a letter fell out of her pink backpack, one she had forgotten about when she had run across her senpai. It had been in the mailbox that morning, shipped by overnight mail, and handwriting on it did not ring any bells for her.

"What's that?" Taka pointed at it. "Another letter? You're just getting notes all over the place, Sakuno-chan!"

A crinkled eye was her response as Sakuno opened up the envelope to reveal two separate sheets of paper, a photograph and some yen bills. The first letter made her smile—it was a group thank you note from the Rikkai Dai team for the meals she had provided for them. The second letter revealed the reason behind the money and photograph's presence. Sakuno's face paled and then flushed. Before she could stow the items away her three companions pressed around her.

"Who's the other letter from, Sakuno-chan?" Fuji prodded gently.

"Well—it's, ah, they're from Marui-san. I think I really made an impression on him with my cakes. I don't see how, they weren't really that good…But he ordered five more chocolate cakes. Whole ones! He even gave me the money for them and a shipping address. And then he..well…" She couldn't bring herself to tell the most embarrassing part.

Tezuka's frown deepened by a fraction when he had quietly asked to read the note from Marui and look at the picture, avoiding even Fuji's eyes skillfully. His eyebrow quivered. "Fan of your cakes or not, I think that a marriage proposal is hardly appropriate."

Taka and Fuji finally managed to get a gander themselves. Taka's face went totally red, almost as red as Sakuno's own.

"Man, that's just---he even wrote a poem. 'If I could only but fly over to your kitchen suspended on a bubblegum balloon…' What's _wrong _with him? Didn't the Rikkai Dai boys screen this?"

"He probably slipped them in at the last minute, Taka-san. Heartfelt, even if his prosody is awful," said Fuji, blank smile turning to sympathetic as he looked at her. "But I feel that any marriage would be quite premature. You know his love is only for your cakes and not your mind or body, Sakuno-chan. Best to give no response along with the cake order."

"Fuji!" Tezuka barked; Taka looked scandalized. Sakuno just wanted to run off and become a nun in a remote convent somewhere where hardly anyone could set eyes on her furiously pink face ever again, or maybe go to Africa and run with the wildebeests on the Serengeti. But with both of those possibilities out, she settled with focusing on her work and waiting for customers. When the others weren't looking she noticed Fuji was continuing to give her teasing looks from his closed eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him when she thought he didn't notice but he wagged a finger at her even though his head was turned away.

**PoT PoT PoT**

After about half an hour, once the shop was really open for business, the other boys except for Taka, Tezuka, and Fuji decided to entertain themselves around the square, dropping by occasionally, and they agreed they would gather again for lunch at the stand. When lunchtime came, Sakuno was surprised to see Momoshiro and Kaidoh come back as well. She thought they would have gone on home but they apparently wanted free lunch too. It was a very pleasant affair; Sakuno was only too happy to give them all free bento boxes.

Energized by his meal, Eiji now had drawn her into a bizarre conversation. He had claimed that he now spoke his own language and that Sakuno was the only one who understood it. When Inui had scoffed, the redhead took it to heart.

"Come on, Sakuno-chan! Say it loud and clear with me, hoi? Please? I love it when you do it. No one else will! Not even Oishi, nyah!" he cried. Eiji's lips were pursed in that certain way that could have softened a heart made of rusted iron. Sakuno's skin started taking on its expected rosy hue but she nodded her assent, unable to hold out against his assault of cuteness.

"Nyah," she sighed.

Eiji's lips curled into the most beatific of cat-smiles. "Nyah?"

"Nyah nyah," she responded with a nod. Eiji clapped his hands and started 'nyah'ing his darn fool head off, pointing to certain foodstuffs in her booth. When he did Sakuno pointed at them in turn with a 'nyah' in response. When the acrobat's eye landed on the cookies, he almost had a meltdown right there, meowing sharply and happily like the cat that had found a bowl of milk waiting just for him. He ended with a rising 'myah,' which indicated a question. Sakuno responded in kind with three short meows of her own. Eiji took out 300 yen and stuffed it into the folds of her left braid.

"Nyah!"

The whole team was staring at them both in this strange tableau, some of them highly amused, some confused and perhaps downright horrified. Sakuno slipped the money out of her braid before she passed half a dozen cookies to her senior, who swept them up into his arms with frenzied, gleeful greed. He turned to his friends.

"See, Inui! Sakuno-chan knows the Eiji language! She's the only one who can understand me. It's our own little code. We can talk about anything and you wouldn't have a clue about what we're saying. Isn't it great?"

"I'll notify all the linguistics journals," Tezuka broke in; if his voice had been just a little more arch in tone Sakuno would almost thing he was being sarcastic. Either Eiji was totally fooled or he just decided to run with the joke because he turned back towards her again and said something about them getting to be on the cover of National Geographic. Fuji directed the full power of his omnipresent smile on her.

"Congratulations on breaking the code, Sakuno-chan. When you publish your findings, be sure to notify me so I can take a picture of both of you for your magazine debut."

Sakuno gently suggested that Eiji eat his cookies before he 'nyah'ed himself to death and then responded, a shy hand scratching her head along the part in her hair made by her braids. "I just wish I was as good at English as I am at Eiji-senpai speak."

"You still have problems with it?" Tezuka asked, brow slightly furrowed. In the past he had very rarely helped her with English but Sakuno always felt bad about needing his help. The subject had never been her strong point. Its grammar and vocabulary were just too confusing, too outside the box for her, and Sakuno hated having to flip her whole way of thinking when shifting languages. Ryoma had sometimes helped her with homework—Sakuno remembered that he had written and spoken it perfectly.

"I'm doing better, Tezuka-buchou. It's just that I can't bring myself to like it. It's too confusing a language for me. But," she smiled at Kawamura, "I know how to say if something is 'burning' or 'great' in English." It was a little joke between them that whenever Taka had to do stir-fry and lit the food on fire, they would do his 'BURNING' shout together. Taka gave her the kind of small grin that only can be made when sharing an in-joke.

"Well, if you ever have trouble you can always ask one of us to help," Oishi offered kindly.

"Or you can ask Ochibi to help you when comes back over," piped up Eiji; he and Momo were sharing a blatantly conspiratorial grin that brought up memories of her junior high days.

"R-Ryoma-kun is coming back over? When?" Sakuno didn't know what to think. She had not heard of any such news, not even from her grandmother. With a shrug of his shoulders Eiji banished the sudden surge of nervousness but a small slump of disappointment took over.

"I don't know when, nyah, but he'll be back sometime, won't he? He can't stay in the States playing forever. Japan is Ochibi's home. He just travels a lot. And won't he be happy to see all of us, nyah, especially you, Sakuno-chan."

"Yeah, the brat will be so happy to see us," Kaidoh repeated in a murmur, his sharply plunging brows even more furrowed.

Eiji didn't seem to mind or hear and he continued to gush about how when they received the news from either Coach Ryuuzaki, Tezuka, or anyone else in the know that they would all go to the airport and greet him with glomps and balloons, maybe even find a way to somehow drop tennis balls on him from the ceiling. It got pretty outrageous and Oishi had to calm him down. But then Momo, grinning, took over.

"And I bet when he lays eyes on you after he gets off the plane, he'll take one look at Ryuuzaki-chan and be swept off his feet. Ah, how he'll gaze into her shimmering eyes and admire her cute braids! So young, so young…"

Perhaps when she was twelve she would have liked to hear such a scenario, yet now Sakuno just felt embarrassed. A wobbling smile remained amidst the onslaught of a wave of self-consciousness. She didn't know if she liked to hear about Ryoma, as Momoshiro was going on to describe, kissing her cheek and ask her a date right on the spot. She doubted Ryoma had changed that much. With hindsight all of her middle school actions seemed so incredibly silly and her desires conflicted to make her shrink in to herself uncomfortably. Momoshiro ended his fairy-tale and looked to her for a response.

"Wouldn't that be nice, eh?"

Her mouth had dried up while he had spoken so Sakuno reached for a can of soda, receiving the added benefit of having something to occupy one hand to keep from fidgeting so much.

"It's nice, Momo-senpai, but I don't think it'd happen. Ryoma-kun just never liked me like that. Let's not fool ourselves." She became a little peevish just thinking of it. "He probably didn't like me at all. And all I wanted was some friendship."

"What do you mean? Of course Echizen thinks you're a friend!" Momo yelped.

"Nu-uh, Momo-senpai. He hated me. He hardly ever was nice to me, he was always so cold and hardly spoke to me," she continued, now in a full-blown pout. Fuji chuckled in the background.

"The brat was insufferable to everyone. It wasn't anything against you." Kaidoh was glowering at the ground.

"See!" said Momo. "He wasn't being mean to you by _Ryoma _standard. Heck, he treated you like gold compared to some others. Just be glad you never got him to be _really _mean to you. If he hated you, he'd have never done all the things he did, like taking you to the stringer's…"

She was obstinate and knee-deep in self-pity. "Only because he was forced to, Momo-senpai. I know he didn't mean it but he also insulted my cooking, which is a sore point with me. And you know Ryoma-kun hates my braids. He always told me that my hair was too long," Sakuno said almost mournfully, one hand going instinctively to her plait and flicking its end. By the time she was fourteen it had become apparent that her hair length had hit its terminal growth, plus she had grown a little since middle school, so now instead of mid-thigh her hair now barely made it past her waist. All the times Ryoma had disparaged her hair ran through her mind, the flicking of the plait-end almost drawing them out through a sort of hypnotism. She knew deep down that Ryoma had not intended for his comment to be mean spirited, but it still had not been very good for her fragile ego at the time.

A displeased Kaidoh hissed while Taka scratched his head awkwardly. "You know, Sakuno-chan, you shouldn't take what he said so hard. Echizen is only one guy, after all. And he was so obsessed with tennis he probably was only giving you what he thought was the best advice to improve. He's thick like that."

"I know that, Taka-san," she sighed, trance broken. "And I think that after the first few times he just said it out of habit more than anything. Still, I don't see why he always thought them so bad. I like my hair long. I take very good care of it and it took me a long time to keep it so long and healthy... There are some things that not even Ryoma-kun could convince me to do. I think my braids are cute and beautiful. That's why I never cut them."

"Well then," Fuji smiled, "next time you see him, just tell him that. Maybe he'd let up then. Like Taka-san said, Echizen's opinion only counts for himself. I can assure you that others, in fact, find your hair to be quite--adorable."

"That's a 100 percent guarantee," added Inui. He was still scribbling. Did he do nothing else but write, play tennis, and make god-awful sports drinks?

"Nyah, that's right, Sakuno-chan. Don't listen to Ochibi, he may be cute but he's still kinda stupid at times. I love your hair, personally, and the way you have it in those braids all the time. So nice!"

He made a grab for the ends of her plaits. Sakuno stood there, shocked so much that she didn't even have the presence of mind to try and dodge his hands; she'd never thought Eiji-senpai was a braid-tugger. His fists curled around the ends but he didn't yank down on them as she had somewhat feared. Instead Eiji flicked them as if they were the traces of a horse's reins. He demanded a 'horsey-ride' and Sakuno reluctantly agreed to jog a little ways ahead of Eiji while he followed behind and flicked her hair up and down. It wasn't as bad as having them yanked but it wasn't something Sakuno was exactly used to; by the time Eiji had horsied himself out she felt her scalp had gone numb in the places where her braids gathered up the most. The worst part was that the other senpai except Tezuka had apparently found the display so cute that they asked Fuji to take a few pictures.

In the end Eiji grew so talkative that to save their collective sanity Sakuno and Fuji, with the backing of some Inui Juice, devised a new job for him that would provide sufficient distraction. The red-head had always possessed acrobatic grace on and off the courts along with a winning bizarre cuteness that captured attention. So after Sakuno managed to procure some cat-ears and a thin rope to tie around his waist like a tail, soon Eiji was placed in a space a little ways from the booth. Next to him was a sign designed in Sakuno's own calligraphy stylings complete with paw prints in the kanji: KAWAMURA RESTAURANT PRESENTS: SEE THE ACROBATIC CAT BOY! HUMAN OR BEAST? YOU DECIDE!

And indeed, the resident Seigaku acrobat managed to do exactly the things advertised. He meowed and nyahed to his heart's content while performing some amazing flips and leaps. At one point he even managed to do the cutest break-dance known to mankind on the sidewalk. Eiji proved to be a huge draw, especially for the girls—Sakuno and the other boys couldn't sell the wares fast enough. It got so crowded that she had to leave the counter to Tezuka so that she and Taka could cook more food. Sakuno was very happy with the success.

It was so bustling that, unbeknownst to her, Inui started suckering people into buying some of his juices.

"See the cat-boy, buy a snack from Kawamura's booth, and earn a free juice drink!"

Oishi's voice cut through the crowds. "Inui! Stop! Ma'am, don't—Sir, please—No! Stop!"

A few screams and retching fits later, the rush hour ended pretty quickly. Rubbing her temples, Sakuno began to wonder if Fuji-senpai's reputation as the local sadist was undeserved.

**PoT PoT PoT**

With the lunch hour over, the other Seigaku boys decided to go their own ways after it was determined no bullies were about. The unpleasantness of having to spray some vomit off the sidewalk thanks to Inui's stunt aside, Sakuno had enjoyed it greatly. Tezuka and Fuji stayed with her and Taka while she sent the others off. All was calmer now. Sakuno looked forward to a more leisurely time with her remaining senpai.

It was not long before Sakuno's seemingly eternal bad luck made itself known once more.

She had gotten them all some more sodas and the four of them were chatting pleasantly when there came a loud sound of a large engine in gear and it was coming up right into the vending area. There was no drivable road going through the open venue so Sakuno almost feared that a car had somehow gone over the nearest curbside and was swerving onto the sidewalks. Before any of them had a chance to peek out a strange sight arrived before their eyes, the noise growing louder.

A huge van parked on the venue right across from the booths, shiny, elegant in its chrome streamlining, and its side windows displaying images of dishes most exotic. It was not every day that you saw a snazzy mobile restaurant that served not only the traditional things but Pacific fusion cuisine along with bits of Italian and French dishes. And on its side were the logos from a few of the finer foreign restaurants in town along with the Hyotei Academy insignia.  
It took a few moments for Sakuno to digest this development. Never before had any school made their claim here. What were they up to? And then, suddenly, it all became clear to her. Sakuno tugged at one braid, her breath hitching. This was unbelievable. Surely it could not have come to this. Her luck wasn't that horrendous.

"It looks like you have rivals, Sakuno-chan," Fuji said softly, eyes open. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder while Taka gaped.

"What are they doing here? I've never seen anything like that. What's going on?"

She needed to take a huge breath through her nose to steady her jangled nerves. Slowly, very slowly, Sakuno undid her apron. The thought of going over there terrified her, but she could see no other way to find out exactly what was happening. Once more her indignation reared up to swallow her natural shyness; she needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Where are you going, Ryuuzaki-chan?" Tezuka demanded, moving with her to the back door. Her lip quibbling, Sakuno stared up at him and said that she was going to talk with them. Tezuka insisted on coming and then ordered Taka and Fuji to stay behind.

While she walked up to the new van, which already had gathered some curious customers, Sakuno's posture had shifted into her 'mad' walk, heels stomping hard on the ground and shoulders hunched. It was a walk that no one except her family ever saw, even then only rarely; she was too shy and good-natured to ever use it in public. She mainly did it when she got called on the carpet for not doing her chores or leaving her stuffed animals out. It wasn't exactly intimidating either, but it made her feel more in control of herself.

A well-manicured boy, obviously Hyotei, was at the window taking orders. Sakuno went up to him. Tezuka had come up with her, a silent shadow.

"Yes? Can we help you—" he leaned in close to her, "Ryuuzaki Sakuno?"

Sakuno very nearly started to feel that all too familiar drop of her spirit into a place somewhere between indignance and her flight reflex, the casual use of her whole name triggering a terrible premonition about this whole set up. Her jaw tightened in her fight for resolve. "I would like to know the meaning of this, please."

The boy's eyes widened at her. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're driving at. We're just in the food business, like you. Lots of Hyotei students go on to work for successful corporations or start their own service providers; this is part of a summer program we have going for the students who want hands-on experience with the restaurant industry. It's a great opportunity to learn how to sell products, how to manage workers, and—if needed—deal with competition."

"Is that so." Tezuka's voice was as deadpan as ever, his posture so rigid that Sakuno thought he might snap in two if he were pushed over. She noticed the Hyotei boy did not meet the gaze behind the glasses but remained on her, hardly blinking in his intimidation tactics. Sweat prickled on Sakuno's palms as they clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. It all was beginning to fall into place once more and she wanted to scream in frustration and dashed hopes. What could she possibly have done in any past life to warrant this wretched situation? Trying her best to keep her quivering chin up, Sakuno stared at the boy.

"Does…does Atobe-san know about this? He promised that Hyotei would leave me alone."

"What do you mean? We areleaving you alone. You have your place of business and we have ours. If your little booth can't compete, it's not our fault your selections are poor and your chefs…less than on the level. Even if Atobe-sama did know, what could he do about it? We have the proper permits; we hired the chefs legitimately. They're professionals-in-training to be sure, but they are quite skilled. We only hire from the finest culinary schools."

Tears unbidden began prickling Sakuno's eyes, the magnitude of it all about to overwhelm her. She formed the words silently three times with her mouth before she managed to sputter out, "But that's not fair!"

"Fair," a girl who had joined the boy volleyed back at her. "I'll tell you what's not fair, little girl: having your entire school and its president insulted by what you did. It was bad enough you spat Atobe-sama's magnanimity in his face, but you sent Rikkai Dai hooligans after other members of our school. Our vice-president can hardly sit down thanks to what that maniac with the bokuto did to him. You insulted and terrorized us. Hyotei won't stand for it.

"You think those flunkies from the other schools can protect you, draw business for you? Well, we must thank you, Ryuuzaki; we've taken a cue from you. Hyotei isn't above allying with other schools—we've asked others to help us if needed. Yamabuki seemed very interested; Mizuki from St. Rudolph also expressed willingness to lend out some help in exchange for new equipment for his team. In fact," she beckoned Sakuno closer with a finger, "we might even get a new sous-chef tomorrow if all goes well. Would you like to know who he is?"

A picture was almost thrust at her, glossy and blown up to lovingly etch out every detail. Falling back a step, Sakuno felt almost all the color seep from her face and she instinctively stood next to Tezuka, one hand clamped over her mouth so they would not get the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in dismay. Since she was no longer so young she didn't dare grab at his sleeve as mightily as she wished she could. He stood there solid as Gibraltar.

At her reaction the two Hyotei students smiled. The face that brought shivers to her spine came into view, lips pouting out as usual, hair quiffed over his brow. Sakuno had to bring her face away to stare at Tezuka's arm.

Most people who saw him would agree that Yanagisawa didn't talk like normal folk, his face could go through some very strange contortions, and he had a certain duckish demeanor that just was not very common, but they also agreed that it wasn't a cause for much alarm. However, very many people have a certain thing that for one reason or another they just can't stand to be around even if others have no problem with it. Some people are afraid of little yippy dogs; others hate oranges with a disgust reserved for lawyers and car salesmen; and yet still another kind just can't bear to be in the room with cat hairs, let alone a cat. And as it turned out, one of Sakuno's most feared things was the goose.

When she had been small, around four, she'd had a bad run-in with one when her maternal grandfather had taken her to the local pond. They both had fed bread to the ducks and geese on the water, having a great time, and then Sakuno had done something very offensive to one of them--perhaps she'd gotten too close, but no one could say for sure. But the next thing she knew, one of the biggest geese from the flock had come ashore, hissing in that sinister way geese do, and it started chasing right after her while it beat its wings furiously. Sakuno had shrieked and tried to get out of its reach, but the rogue gander managed to nip her on the arm before she cleared its way. Not the most pleasant thing for her.

Everyone said that Yanagisawa looked and acted like a duck, but when she had first seen him Sakuno's mind had made the little leap from cute puddle-duck to huge hissing bully goose. She knew it was irrational but she couldn't help it. Every time he opened his mouth she thought he was going to bite and hiss at her. Sakuno trembled at the thought.

"Mizuki just happened to give us information about all of his players. Really crazy how in depth he went. He even mentioned certain reactions little girls have for his doubles' player-- not that we can blame you. But it would be rather funny if Yanagisawa were told that a certain someone had a secret crush on him and wanted to date him very, very badly but was too shy and had too little self-esteem to admit it. And wouldn't it be even funnier if he were to get that certain girls' phone number so he could call her over and over for a date? He might even swing by her booth after work just to see her—every day."

Her nerves screamed out at the very prospect. She really had nothing against Yanagisawa despite his scariness but she didn't think she could survive his misguided attentions. The thought of seeing that face pop up every single summer day like some kind of recurring boogeyman already made her feel shot through with tension. She grasped at one of her braids from nervous habit.

"Of course, things don't have to turn out that way. If you call off your watchdogs and let business between the two of us go on as usual, then nothing needs to happen."

Tezuka's jaw tightened slightly, sun glinting off his glasses.

"What's the point of all this?"

"It is very simple. As long as Ryuuzaki works in that booth, we will come here with our own products. We will leave when she does. And—if she persists in her insulting presence, we'll tell Yanagisawa that she has a huge crush on him but is too shy to admit it. You should know how he is. Mizuki says that if a girl ever said she liked him he'd never leave her alone. He'd to her booth every day. Even if she tells him to go away or doesn't speak, he won't get the hint. He'll just believe it's her shyness."

The prospect of having to see that terrifying face each and every day she worked made the poor girl feel sick to her stomach. She did not work well when nervous and her nerves were frazzled.

"Of course, he's not the only one who would be helping us. I expect Akutsu Jin might come over if asked. And you both know what he's like. I think he could take on any of your Rikkai Dai toughs. So here's how it goes: You call off your watchdogs and we will not ask for outside help—we can smash you easily. Even better, if you stop working the booth completely we will take this business elsewhere."

"And if I tell Atobe about this little stunt of yours?" continued Tezuka, his coolness now tinged with true bitter frostiness. If the Hyotei students hadn't been ensconced behind their glass haven Sakuno wagered that they wouldn't be so bold if he were right in their faces.

"It doesn't matter if you tell him or not, Tezuka-san. Atobe-sama may respect you but he would never go so far as to take action against us when he has no good reason. He is our student president and richest benefactor. Do you think he would throw away his school loyalty jut for some little girl who insulted him? He would never do it. He is much too fine and upstanding to act so basely, not even for his worthiest adversary. And he certainly would not do it for the sake of one small little girl whose only claim for distinction is that her grandmother is the world's ugliest battle-axe!"

She had heard enough of this, nor could she bear to look at these people any longer. Sakuno sent them one last hard look to convey her small defiance and managed to find the courage to place her hand on Tezuka's forearm to get his attention.

"I've heard enough. Can we please go, Tezuka-buchou? I—I don't see any more reason to stay here. I'm done with these rude people." A spark of familial pride inside her flared up and she turned around with a deeper frown that made the girl's face seem uncannily like her grandmother's in ways, she steely set of the jaw in place. "And you two: do as you like. I'll play by your little game if it'll keep the peace. But if you ever, ever insult my grandmother or talk of her without proper respect _ever_ again, I might just have to tell her everything. And she will _not _be pleased, I promise you that." Whatever had brought out that spark died out and she tugged on her senior's sleeve once more.

With a small frown Tezuka relented, eyes crystal hard behind his glinting lenses. Before he turned around to accompany her he leaned in. He did not raise his voice a decibel over his normal speaking volume but his tone was so sharp and piercing it was as if he were shouting. His body was tense and coiled, obviously angry even if his face did not change.

"And let me tell you something as well. If you hurt one hair on Ryuuzaki's head, if you ever take one mischievous step towards her booth, if you even think of sending Yanagisawa or any other person from another school to harass her physically, and if you breathe one more insulting word about her or her family—" He slammed his fist on the counter. "I will _see _to you personally. Although I don't think there could be anything worse than sending her grandmother here, I know a few other avenues open to us. Do _not _think you can do anything untoward to my kohai and not feel the consequences."

Sakuno couldn't stop the rush of admiration she felt through her uneasiness. She had flinched at his voice when he spoke but, oh! How she wished she could muster such authority. She half expected icicles to be hanging off the buildings. Even the Hyotei students looked very cowed and they did not answer.

"Give me a bowl of your soup. I don't care what kind." When it was given Tezuka took one spoonful before shoving it back carelessly. "If you think you can draw away Ryuuzaki's business with that, your chefs have their work cut out for them, no matter how pricey they are."

The walk back to the booth was draped in silence. Sakuno felt any and all fight drain out of her and her face reflected her misery. Even so, she walked on the flat of her heels as if upset still and Tezuka stalked silently beside her like a great cat. Not a word was said until they reached the booth. Sakuno hardly heard Fuji and Taka's questions as the captain turned to her with a deep sigh. His hand was twisting his shirt sleeve surreptitiously.

"Ryuuzaki Sakuno, how in the world do you get _into _these messes?"

Her own theory was that somehow she was a very bad person and that the gods hated her, but she did not voice it. Sakuno made do with throwing her hands up in the air in vexation. "I don't know! Believe me, Tezuka-buchou, I never want these things to happen. If I'd known Hyotei students were just so touchy—It just never ends!"

Down came her hands to slap her palms on the countertop; she needed to do something or else she'd fall apart with all the nervous energy coursing through her and it the tingles in her palms against the cool helped bring her mind into focus. Ah—to live really was to suffer!

Tezuka had told the other two what had transpired. Fuji no longer had anything resembling a smile on his lips and Taka had the appearance of someone slapped across the face with a fish. All was silent. Tezuka began rubbing his temples, eyes shut.

"I am going to kill Atobe the next time I see him."

"It's not Atobe-san's fault this happened," Sakuno interjected. "Technically they are leaving me alone and he can't help it if they did this behind his back. I just wish the Kawamuras didn't have to lose money because of me." She turned miserable eyes to Taka. "If you and your parents really want me to go back to the restaurant, I'll do it."

"Nonsense. We'd never let you go like that, not in a million years," Taka cried stoutly. "You're a great worker. I'll be damned if I let some stuck up Hyotei yahoos dictate our business. You'll stay right here, Sakuno-chan."

Fuji's face had found a very fierce little smile to put on and his eyes were open and gleaming off in the distance in scheming contemplation. "Yes, there's no reason for you to give in, Sakuno-chan. We will think of something. I'm already working on how to solve various problems."

Sakuno turned to him this time, almost near despair. She was honored that they were taking her side but all this anger seemed too much. Too many schools were being dragged into this unhappy little quagmire and she hated to think that she would be the center of it all. Her imagination burgeoned the whole state of affairs into an all-out intramural school war, imagined riots at all the sports events and knife fights in the streets, and she bit back a wail.

"Don't go making trouble with Hyotei please, Fuji-senpai!"

"Sakuno-chan, you should know that I don't make trouble," he said kindly to her, eyes still open. "I just correct things that need correction. And right now I am thinking that someone from St. Rudolph has strayed off the righteous path by being indiscreet with certain secrets about his team."

"You mean Mizuki-san," Taka ventured. Fuji shrugged again.

"Oh, I can't remember his name. But I'm sure someone from there has done something wrong. It wouldn't be fair to let him get away scot-free, would it?"

"Keep your damage to a minimum, Fuji. We don't need ill-will between the schools. If you have to settle, do it in the proper setting."

Fuji sighed. "Fine, Tezuka. I'll just ask him for a friendly game. Self-judged like any informal match and very casual."

Tezuka kept his arms folded and arched an eyebrow. "How casual?"

"Casual enough to let my most perfect aim slip now and then. Sad to say, I'm not perfect yet." It was a marvel, thought Sakuno, how he could say such things with total angeliferousness. The captain nodded once.

"My blessing." It sounded more like a curse for Mizuki, if you asked her. Before Sakuno could say anything Taka pressed in with more concerns.

"I can't believe they're pulling more schools into this. It's only natural for Seigaku to look after their own, and Rikkai Dai didn't even mean to do anything against Hyotei specifically. And they can't help because they're so far away. This stinks! And what about the other schools around? What if they get Fudomine?"

"Fudomine doesn't help others fight their battles. Besides, Kippei would never allow such pettiness," said Tezuka. Sakuno finally found her opening.

"And Ann-chan is my friend," she interjected, "she'd never let it escalate. But may I say something, senpai?" Her fingers twiddled nervously at what she was about to say even though she was steeling herself. "I—I don't think any of you should come by the next time I work. If nobody comes then they won't bother me. I don't care if they have fancy foreign foods—I'm confident enough in this business and my work. I can do this."

Sakuno forced her chin up, glad to finally have let her request out. They all seemed surprised, even Tezuka. Finally he spoke up, face solemn. "I don't think I can do that. Your grandmother asked me to look after you and I fully intend to do just that."

"We will not just stand by and let you go through this alone, Sakuno-chan," said Fuji; his scheming eyes grew softer as they landed on her. "How could we hold our heads up high and cherish our pride to be your senpai if we can't be there for you when we need you?"

Yes, now that was the rub. Her early melancholy had vanished under their care and Sakuno felt very light in the chest, a comfortable air of nostalgia and fondness for them all settling around her. It made her heart sing to see that her schoolmates thought her worth all the effort and care they wanted to show. But a part of her reminded herself that even though she liked feeling as if she were twelve again, things could not ever be the same. Her Grandma had always been so fiercely independent and strong. Her senpai were always in control of their lives. Even Ryoma-kun had taken care of things on his own. She wanted to be able to do that.

It was nice to be pampered and protected by others, but Sakuno began to feel that to keep on allowing it to go on throughout all high school would do her a disservice. She would never learn how to keep her own head uplifted in adversity. She wanted to be able to face a problem and solve it herself. Even if she got knocked down and demolished, at least she could say to herself that she had done the best she could. Sakuno did not want to be exactly like her grandmother, but it was time she proved that she was a flesh and blood Ryuuzaki. She had never wanted to make trouble but now it was time to stand up.

In short, she was tired of being picked on and always needing someone else to rescue her. She wanted to try this for herself. But how to express that? Her senpai had always been protective. How could she make them understand without insulting them? Sakuno looked at Fuji, then Tezuka, then Taka, her mouth open. But she could not formulate the words. Instead she settled with a small smile.

"How could I cherish my own pride, Fuji-senpai, if I let you do all the work? I'm not thinking just about school is set up. I—I'm thinking about the long run. This is something I need to do. Please, let me try and handle this my way first? I really need this. Don't mind what Grandma says."

There was a pause as the kept on gawking at her like she'd grown a new head. Sakuno silently began cooking some more rice to fill up another bento. Tezuka cleared his throat.

"And what I am to tell your grandmother? Coach Ryuuzaki depends on me, Ryuuzaki-chan."

"And me," cried Taka. "Do you know what she'd do to me if you were in trouble? Even if she wasn't your grandma, I couldn't bear to think of you so vulnerable like this. What if Hyotei breaks their promise? What if they vandalize the booth again? I couldn't stand it!"

Sakuno looked at their faces and found their anxiety so funny for some reason that she began to giggle without meaning to. They all really were very nice and sweet to her, in their own ways.

"Don't you worry about Grandma. But if you're so worried right now, let's just sleep on it. How about the next time I go to work, Grandma comes with me? They didn't say anything about that. And it'd give you all something better to do than sit around watching me and having me stuff your faces."

That seemed to calm them down but she was certain that they didn't feel quite right about it yet. Fuji gave a resigned sigh. "But we like it when you stuff your faces with treats, Sakuno-chan. How are we to play our best without the proper nutrition?"

"Ask Inui-senpai to help you with that," she chirped back.

"We'll see," said Tezuka. "If your grandmother accompanies you next time, fine. In the meantime we'll all talk over what we can do. I fully intend to inform Atobe about this. And Rikkai Dai. We don't need them inadvertently antagonizing Hyotei if they come up again."

And there the matter stood. Sakuno filled up the new bento with rice and fixings before setting it out. She didn't notice Fuji was staring hard at the van across from them like it was the ultimate eyesore before he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Say, Sakuno-chan, do you mind if I take a pitcher of this lemonade over there? Maybe a goodwill token will help soothe relations."

She knew him well enough to take Fuji more than at face value but she still had a hard time reading him. Knowing he'd probably do what he wanted anyway, she nodded. Fuji jovially took up a plastic pitcher of the lemonade she had made last night and fumbled with his pocket. She and Taka gasped to see him take out a small transparent squeeze bottle filled with a depressingly familiar mixture.

"Hyper-Remix Juice!" Taka's face blanched for fear; he had quit the team for about two years but that stuff haunted his dreams.

"Just a little supplement," Fuji said pleasantly. "I'd prefer to use Aozu but I'm not masochistic enough to carry that around with me, let alone ask Inui for it." Sakuno felt wobbly from the odor that was now wafting through her booth. She tried fanning the area with her hands, which caused Fuji to look at her with apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sakuno-chan. If I could mix this anywhere else I could but I need to be in a place where I can't be seen…there."

He had dumped the whole contents of the bottle into the pitcher before stirring it in well with a long-handled spoon. He took a small sip and nodded happily. As he turned to go, shucking off his telltale jacket, Sakuno suddenly had an inspiration and pulled out a small drawer under the counter; she had stored the things she'd gotten from Niou in there. She pulled out three delicate looking mint-green candies and handed them over. She was glad that none of them had seen the firecrackers she'd bought in there. They were for real emergency situations.

"Here you go, Fuji-senpai. Why don't you give them these as well?"

"What are they?" Taka ventured warily. Sakuno beamed at him.

"Jujumint candies from the Wonka factory. Niou-san gave me some. They make people's teeth green for a whole week."

She hoped that neither Taka nor Tezuka would object—she had a hunch Fuji wouldn't. Neither of them made a protest and Fuji took the candies to put in his pocket with a chuckle.

"Ah, Sakuno-chan. You are just too adorable." He reached out to poke the dimple in her cheek before going out with his arsenal. Sakuno and the others watched him go up to the Hyotei girl, the picture of charm, and talked to her. In less than five minutes the pitcher was being poured.

"Are they really supposed to twitch like that, Tezuka?" Taka asked scant seconds later.

"Inui has made the juice stronger since you left us," came the reply.

**PoT PoT PoT**

Not long after Fuji practically had floored most of the Hyotei food van's staff, Sakuno's shift came to its end. She had Taka help take out the supplies while she locked up. The four of them stood behind the booth and she sighed.

"What a day."

"I still can't believe it." Taka shook his head.

"We will deal with it," Tezuka said, words short. "There's no need for you two to remain here any longer. You're due back at the restaurant, Taka, and Coach Ryuuzaki will be coming to pick her up. I'll wait with her. You can start contacting the others, Fuji."

The famed genius of Seigaku nodded agreeably and stood behind Sakuno before making his departure.

"Well, you behave yourself around Sakuno-chan, Tezuka. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Fuji smiled benevolently at them and reached out to give her head a pat and a braid a very gentle tug. Sakuno didn't erupt into a full blush, being used to Fuji-senpai's ways now, but she did feel sorry for poor Tezuka-buchou, his posture a bit stiffer again. He was probably calculating how many laps he'd order Fuji to run tomorrow. She reached up to briskly pat Fuji's hand as it rested on the part between her braids.

"Fuji-senpai, get real!"

He only kept on smiling and left quietly.

"Are you sure you don't want any of us to stay behind and help, buchou?" Kawamura had cocked his head off to the side in his slight discomfort about the situation; his old coach had been rather forceful in insisting that the Kawamura family had an obligation to protect her granddaughter from harm. Sakuno felt Tezuka's hand rest very lightly on her shoulder to draw her away towards the street.

"It's all right, Kawamura. You can go home; I will take care of her until her grandmother arrives."

Tezuka spoke with such quiet force that Kawamura dropped any other second considerations. When he had bid them both good night and given her a pat on the head with the promise of seeing her at work, Sakuno found herself standing alone with the captain. As formidable as he was, Sakuno never felt quite so apprehensive around Tezuka as she had Ryoma.

Before she had met the latter on a train to her first public tennis match, sometimes her grandmother had called in Tezuka to baby-sit, already understanding him to be a responsible and careful young man even then. He had been adamant about getting her to bed right on time and never allowed her to even fudge on the rules her grandmother had set, but he had also been fun sometimes as well; once she had even coaxed him into playing Tea Time, even if he clearly had had deep reservations about the whole thing. There was nothing like watching a thirteen year old boy sipping from a tea cup that was much too small for his fingers and pretending to make astute observations about fashion and the weather with Mr. Bunners, her favorite stuffed rabbit.

"I'm sorry you had to stay so long with me today, Tezuka-buchou. I'm sure you could have been practicing or doing something more useful."

He looked down at her and Sakuno shifted onto her right foot in embarrassment, wondering how that sentence had slipped out. He adjusted his glasses with his index finger and turned his gaze to the distance.

"Don't apologize. I was glad to do it."

She hadn't expected an answer in any different kind of vein yet she still felt compelled to respond. "I'm glad you did, too, Tezuka-buchou. I just wish Grandma hadn't practically forced you to come, especially when Taka-san was with me. You don't have to do everything she says anymore, right?"

"I came because I wanted to. And because I wanted to help the both of you out." At her inquisitive, almost incredulous glance, he continued. "I would have come even if your grandmother hadn't called me, Ryuuzaki-chan, after what Sanada had told me. But she did hammer home the message." He turned his face away so that she couldn't see his face clearly, as if he weren't sure himself whether he could sustain his normal stoic attitude or not. "I have been neglectful."

Sakuno was truly baffled by this. Tezuka had always been respectful to her and watched over her but she had never been given this much regard by him before.

"Why is this so important, Tezuka-buchou? You've always been watchful and looked out for both of us. Why are you going to such trouble? Is it because of Grandma?"

"Partly. The time that I spent in Seigaku, coached by your grandmother, were some of the happiest and best. I owe your grandmother a great deal. She is—" Tezuka's shoulders tensed up as if he were physically trying to grasp the means of expression, then went slack as he could only say what came to mind. "She is an amazing woman. I can't say anything more than that. And you are her most precious person. You are also my kohai. That makes you important too. So you see why it is hard for me to let you face this crisis alone. It may not be big in the scheme of things, but it affects you. I want to help. Your welfare means a great deal to me."

Sakuno looked up at him and a pleased blush spread across her face in the knowledge that she had one of the best senpai ever. He was not nearly so scary as his on-court persona suggested.

"Thank you, Tezuka-buchou. But don't worry for now, all right? I won't be working this weekend anyway. I'm grounded, remember? And on Monday I'll ask Grandma to come by. It'll be okay."

She was certain the captain's eyes twinkled just briefly even if his face did not move a muscle towards a smile.

"But no matter how this turns out, Ryuuzaki-chan, one thing isn't in doubt."

"What's that, buchou?"

"I am still going to murder Atobe on the courts the next time I see him."

----

_Coming up next: The story gets only slightly more serious as we explore the relationship between Sakuno and her grandmother next time. But don't worry because there will also be LAFFS when Sakuno's booth gets ambushed by a perverted double-whammy in the form of Nanjiroh and Sengoku. Blood will spill._

_And Ryoma? He's in chapter 5. And don't worry—Atobe himself will be making another appearance soon enough along with Rikkai Dai and even some Ibu Shinji. The other PoT girls will also be making appearances. Be patient and ye shall receive._

_PS: Samsara is the Hindu/Buddhist notion that all life, death, and suffering is cyclical and unending until one attains Nirvana. It describes poor Sakuno's life pretty well._


	4. Grandmas be Kind to Your Granddaughters

_Emergency Author's Note: To get the final joke said by Sumire: Japan and China don't exactly have the best international relations. There's a bit of bad blood between them because of the harsh things Japan did to China in WWII onwards and about two years ago there were lots of anti-Japan protests in China. Not exactly stellar relations between them._

**Sakuno Adventure #4: Grandmothers be Kind to Your Granddaughters**

The world went on its usual way, turning with the earth; Sakuno looked down from the apartment window and didn't interfere. The cool glass panes, now spattered with moisture from the thick clouds outside, muted the traffic below so that only the ticking of the clock mixed with the clicking of her grandmother's knitting needles teased her ears. Her knuckles tightened around the cloth of her skirt hanging over her knees. Why her grandmother had decided to actually take up a tried and true old lady's hobby escaped Sakuno's reasoning. The only answer she could come up with was that it was just another way to drive her batty. The clicks drummed against her brain. Her fingers spread up against the window as her mind tried to escape outside to what might be hidden through the blanket of drizzly gray rain.

"Sa-chan, if you really are so bored, I don't think just staring out the window will help," came her grandmother's voice. "Have you finished your homework?"

After a monosyllabic affirmative answer wherein she didn't move her eyes to meet the other woman's, Sakuno kept her eyes riveted on the drizzle outside. Her lips were pursed in what could be no other than a genuine pout.

"Ah, so sulky," sighed the voice. "You're upset. I'm sorry, Sakuno, but you're not going out no matter how much you pine. You're grounded and that's that. A day and evening at home with your old grandma won't kill you. Besides, it's been raining all day. What could you do out there except catch cold? Not as if the booth would be open today anyway."

"Hmph." Sakuno folded her clenching fingers across her arms. Her humor was a foul one indeed, nor had the stars been in her favor that day.

It had started out promising enough; it had been good to not have to sweat for so long over kitchen stoves under time's pressure and cook what she wanted at her own pace. But starting right after lunch, when she had decided to make the order of cakes for Marui in the comfort of her own home, everything had gone on a rocket-sled ride downwards to utter frustration.

The bad weather had started off things on a sour note. Then her first chocolate cake had for some reason or other flopped. She had been very cross and disappointed in herself but Sakuno knew that such things happened to even the best bakers. After salvaging what she could the only thing left to do was to start all over ;but it chomped into what turned out to be extremely precious time. Five cakes—aesthetically pleasing ones, too, with the ganache frosting perfectly level on top and delicately squeezed out by hand on the edge in rich waves-took some time to make well and the package delivery truck always left the post office at three o' clock, exactly on the third chime. The driver would probably commit seppuku if he left even one second later. Sakuno knew from experience that the rest of the office workers were rather hard-nosed about schedules as well.

By the time the five angel-perfect cakes had been ready, the drive to the post office would already have been a close shave. She had begged, cajoled, and whined with her grandmother all the way there to go faster, but Sumire was not about to do anything crazy in a car on wet streets. When they had arrived the last truck was just ready for departure as the workers finished up making the transfers into its loading space. A man had met them at the door and told them to either come back the next day or they could let the post office hold the packages overnight.

Sakuno had almost lost it right then and there; tears of frustration had been ready to fall. She had pleaded in what she had hoped was her most persuasive manner-No go. The prospect of giving Marui-san day old cakes was anathema to her baker's soul. Sakuno had begun to fear that she'd not only have to redo everything later but would also have five not-so-fresh cakes on her hands. Blasphemy!

It was a good thing her Grandma understood that. Where tears had done no good, Sumire had gotten right in the workers' faces and accused them of having no pity in their hearts and not appreciating good service for baked goods. Then she had stormed past them, cake boxes in arms, and thrust them at the man loading the truck to take. No one dared go against the old lady's wishes. Her grandma kept a pair of nunchucks in the glove compartment for a reason.

But just as they were leaving to get in the car, the same delivery truck passed close and hit a puddle, spraying water all over Sakuno. She'd shivered all the way in the car as dirty water dripped down hair and clothes. Even thought now she had taken a warm bath and changed, it had still left the girl in an almighty nasty funk.

And then there had also been the phone calls.

The first ones came as welcome distractions from the gloom, the first from Tomoka and the second caller had been Ann. They had been spitting indignation over the line—of course they had heard was what going on. Ann had overheard her brother Kippei talking to someone about a mess with Hyotei and Sakuno's name had come up. Tomoka had heard it after cornering Horio (who was getting to be just as good at spying as Mizuki), who had heard it from Oishi, and threatened to pluck out his unibrow if he didn't spill everything. Sakuno's delight turned quickly into exasperation as she had to talk both of them down; Ann was threatening to literally go after any and all Hyotei girls she saw with a baseball bat. Then Tomoka had to start one-upping her and then A-bombs somehow got into the discussion and it just went downhill from there. Sakuno appreciated their concern with all sincerity but she found it a relief on her ears to finally get away from the squawking phone line. She could still feel the buzzing between her skull.

A short while after that came the most pleasant call. Somehow Kirihara-san and Niou-san managed to find her number (little did she know of Renji Yanagi's prowess!) and called her up just to chat. They also had heard something was up because of Sanada but they wouldn't get anything out of him even under the greatest torture. They told her to tell them if things were bad but Sakuno managed to head them off into more pleasant topics. She didn't know that Kirihara liked many of the same music bands she did, it had been fun to talk about that with him. Niou argued with her over how many onigiri it would take to barter for a motorcycle. They kept on teasing her, calling her names like 'Saku-baku' and 'bunny' and 'Rapunzel', but she did not really mind so much.

"Oh yeah, Sakuno-chan, we gotta warn you," said Kirihara, suddenly much more dour. "Did you get a _note_ from Marui-senpai? Because he went totally ape over your cakes, you know. You kinda made an impression. So just—Sanada-fukubuchou said he'd kill him if he bothered you and forbade Yanagi-senpai to give him any information on you, but you better be prepared. If he calls you, _just hang up_. He's been riding on a sugar-high for a while now. He just ate the last one today. He's been bouncing all over."

It was a bit much to digest. Sakuno had licked her lips and squeaked out: "Um, 'information?'

But by the time she got it out she heard a sharp grunt from Niou on the other end. The two were apparently talking on a cell phone somewhere outside in Kanagawa.

"Dammit, there he is! He sees us! He's coming this way Turn it off, Akaya, for the love of-"

The line went dead. A few seconds later the phone rang again. She really should have known better, but like a fool Sakuno had picked it up again.

"Hello?"

"Is it really you, Sakuno-chan? Am I really speaking to you, cake-angel? Did you get my note, sweetling?"

There were sounds of obvious scuffling and a few curses in the background. Sakuno stared at the receiver in utter amazement before collecting herself. "Yes, Marui-san. Um—I sent the cakes you ordered today."

Of all the things she could have said, this was the worst. Marui squealed, actually squealed, and started making crazy pronouncements of his devotion. Surely all the Rikkai players didn't have such insane sides like this! She was too embarrassed to hang up until he started shouting, "Marry me, Sakuno-chan, please!"

Out of reflex, sensing this was too much for her to handle, Sakuno hung up the phone. It rang again. She was so stunned she actually picked it up again.

"Marry me, please!"

Sakuno had mumbled something she couldn't quite recall, something about being married to the sea. After that she had lain down for a nap, she really had needed one.

The reprieve was brief. After she had woken up Sakuno flinched when the tone rang out again. She had decided to stay right where she was, not realizing until too late that if she didn't answer the phone then her grandmother would. She had started up with a yelp, about to slap the cursed thing from her Grandma's hands before _she_ got a marriage proposal as well, but apparently the caller had hung up.

"Must have been a wrong number," said her grandmother.

But the phone rang again. And again. And again. Each time her grandmother answered the line clicked dead. Soon enough Sumire was mad enough to spit out hornets. The phone was a private line that neither of them recognized and so they couldn't trace a number. After the fifth time her grandmother finally pushed the automatic callback button. "Who the hell IS this? Speak, you little punk prank caller!" Once again she was cut off.

In the end Sakuno and her grandmother did what they should have done and just unplugged the phone cord from the jack.

Now the blessed silence, so dearly bought, had brought Sakuno to her present state. With no insane antics to distract her, she could only brood on her slew of misfortunes. The whole thing was mess. She didn't dare not go to work the next time her shift came up, but she would work in less than ideal conditions. Her seniors would only make things worse and she was sure that even though she had begged them from making direct interference, things wouldn't last. And today she had slogged through the rain just to deliver cakes to an obvious freak with a massive cake fetish which he had projected on to her! To top it all off, she couldn't bear to tell her grandmother because it was all too much and she was too embarrassed.

The world was sometimes unbearably cruel.

"All right, what is the matter? Something is troubling you. Why don't you tell me?"

The tone was so kind and her grandmother looking at her with nothing but good will, but Sakuno could not bring herself to say anything. It was as if everything that was dizzying her was jammed up inside her chest. A pressure was building up behind it, hot and tight. For so long she had not kept anything from her grandmother, the woman who had almost singlehandedly raised her, and who was both mother and grandmother to her, now she could say absolutely nothing, ask for no help. Sakuno did not know why but she felt it and it was almost torture.

"Nothing, Grandma."

A snort came from behind as Sumire put down her knitting. "Not nothing! I can see something is wrong and it's not just because you were splashed. You'll feel better if you let it out, Sa-chan. Is it because of your English homework? Math?" Her sharp old eyes narrowed. "You haven't been troubled by Hyotei anymore, have you? I swear I told Atobe and the principal I'd skin him-"

Sakuno was becoming ever more flustered. "No they haven't, Grandma!"

"Then _what_?"

That was the last straw to break her back. Before she knew it Sakuno slammed her hand on the windowsill and turned around, her lips pulled back in a grimace. The hot lump inside her was forced out in an explosion by the pressure that had built up behind it.

"Dammit, Grandma, leave me alone! Can't you see I don't want to be bothered?"

Heavy silence curtained all around the now-stuffy room. Eyes wide, Sakuno shuddered and took a thick gulp of air. She had never yelled like that at her Grandma, not ever since she was old enough to know better. Sumire's face went utterly slack in shock and then her eyes hardened with her coach's resolve and she assumed a sternness so sharp Sakuno felt it prickle her skin. Sumire rose up quickly, making no word, and gestured for Sakuno to do the same. She slowly did so. With an abrupt slap of her palm the old woman sent the chair back away from the window and sat back down, arms folded, in front of her granddaughter in the overstuffed chair. She pointed to the foot cushion before them.

"Come here, Sakuno. You simply do not speak to me like that, do you understand? I will not stand for it. I thought I had taught you better than that. Do you hold me in such little respect?"

Little tiny specs of light danced before Sakuno's eyes and all the fight drained out of her. She felt utterly mortified. Shame flashed through her. Squeezing her hands together Sakuno worked her throat and squeaked out: "I'm so sorry, Grandma."

"Come here, I said."

Petite as she was, Sakuno was almost certain she was too big to be spanked now—at least she hoped to high heavens that she was. For all her Grandma's strictness with her unruly team and a temperament that valued order and discipline over physical comfort, her Grandma had not ever made so much as a move to lay a swat on Sakuno after the last spanking that she'd gotten when she was five. An outright slap was unheard of. Sakuno stood before the old woman in the chair and tried to keep her resolve and not tremble. A few unwilling tears made their way out of her eyes but Sakuno managed not to whimper.

Her grandmother stared hard at her as if trying to figure out some particularly difficult and somewhat aggravating puzzle. Then, slowly, the hard lines softened. Once her grandmother breathed out deeply Sakuno felt her own hitched breath release. She saw her grandmother pat the footstool.

"Sit down, Sa-chan. I won't yell at you."

Grateful to sit down because of the dizziness wracking her balance, she sank down onto the cushy footstool, her shoulder blades still quivering slightly. As he heart sped down Sakuno felt a tug on her scalp. Her braids were pulled behind her shoulders and she could feel her grandmother unraveling them deftly. There was a gentle pressure on the sensitive skin of her head as Sumire reached into her nearby handbag for a comb. It sifted through the long strands of thick hair with utmost gentleness. Sakuno relaxed, breathing in the wafting scent of the other woman's light perfume. She loved having other people comb her hair. The feeling against her scalp was so delicious.

Sumire regarded the tumbling waves of slightly crimped hair as they rippled all the way down her grandchild's back and rested their ends on the footstool. "Your hair is so pretty, Sa-chan. I remember when I was the one who did this, before you learned how to do it on your own," her grandmother murmured over the undone plaits, the old lady's time-roughened fingers guiding and combing through each strand with gentle precision. She smiled upon catching the light breeze of lilacs from the unbound hair.

"It's been a long time," came the admission. Sakuno had fully relaxed by now and was looking down at her fingers. They were interlaced lightly in her lap. "You used to still help me with them when I was still thirteen or so but then I really got the hang of it."

"I remember. I also can recall how you were so incredibly shy back then. Remember how you always stuttered when you weren't with the family or Tomoka?" At her granddaughter's nod Sumire chuckled in her dry way at the memories. "I have to admit, I was a bit worried there at first." She grinned at the curiosity-piqued look Sakuno cast back at her. "You hardly could talk to anyone on your own if they weren't close. You could barely even order sushi from the Kawamuras for the longest time! Not until you got to know them better, that is."

" I don't like talking to strangers over the phone."

"Or how about that fact that you could barely go up to the counter at a fast food restaurant and ask for more ketchup? You always were so shy! It was pretty cute, but still it did concern me. I wondered if I had done the right things when you were growing up."

Sakuno had never heard anything like this come from her grandmother's lips before. She actually turned around for a face-to-face talk, eyes wide. "Of course you did, Grandma! You raised me fine." A little sigh. "It's not your fault if I'm not as tough as you. I—just hate being a bother to other people. But of course when I try not to be a bother I get nervous and I end up being a bother and it all just becomes a mess. And then I have to get someone to bail me out. It's the story of my life."

A finger waggled in front of her face as her grandmother clucked her tongue. "Now that's just silly. You were only twelve and you're still only fifteen and a half! You aren't grown up, not by a long shot. You can't rely on yourself yet. And besides, even after you're grown you'll still need to rely on other people."

Sakuno began to pout and folded her arms, puffing a lock of stray bangs out of her eyes. "Other people are no fun. I attract all the bullies."

Her grandmother then demanded to know if she considered Tomoka, Tezuka, Ryoma, Taka, Fuji, and the rest bullies. Sakuno had to admit that they had been very gracious to her considering all the messes she'd gotten in but she hated imposing on them. Even though her grandmother kept on insisting they were glad to do it, Sakuno didn't feel all that absolved.

"You're just trying to grow up too fast," Sumire finally said with some triumph. "Relax. Enjoy being young. Soon you'll be full grown and have other things to deal with. And there I'll be, sitting at home in the dark and wondering why my granddaughter never calls anymore." Her voice trailed off lightly while Sakuno flew into a tizzy of denial.

"Ah, don't tease me like that, Grandma! I'm never going to leave you all alone."

"What, never?" her grandmother asked, one wry eyebrow kinked.

"Never! I won't ever leave you alone just because of some boy or whatever. You're my Grandma and I'll never feel really lonely because I'll have you. You'll always come first, you and my aunts and uncles and cousins. I just wish we could stay together forever."

"But you know it can't, sweetie. I'm old and you have your life ahead of you. Don't shut out great future happiness just for the sake of one old woman. I want only the best for you."

Trying to fish around for some response but coming up with nothing, Sakuno only cast her eyes down and drummed her fingers on her knee. Her grandmother's hand cast through her hair once again and the capable old hands cradled Sakuno's face and lifted it up.

"You were pretty cute when you were younger, but now I see you'll turn out to be quite nice on the eyes." Sumire gave the whispery sigh of the elderly. "So sweet and fresh! It won't be long, I think, before some rascal will try and steal you away from me."

"Grandma, you're on a roll today. Will the teasing ever stop? No one's going to steal me away."

"Now that's a very interesting statement because the last time I talked to Tezuka he said you received a note from Rikkai's Marui Bunta-"

Short of falling off her seat and pretending to play dead, Sakuno settled for flushing red all the way down to her neck, hiding her face behind her hands and hair, and protesting that she had done nothing. She couldn't help it if people really liked her baking. Really, REALLY liked it. At last her grandmother let it go with a laugh. Her equilibrium returned and Sakuno turned back around to let her hair be braided again. Settled against sturdy knees the rain outside had an almost calming patter now. Then, after a brief comfortable silence, her grandmother spoke again.

"That does remind me, though. I heard something from Nanjiroh Echizen today before those damned calls started that I think you'd like to know. Ryoma's finished with his tour in America. He's coming back next week."

Everything lurched to a total halt in Sakuno's vision, her heart began to pound with the shock. Never had she expected the senpai's predictions to come true so soon. Memories, both good and bad, clouded her eyes as she looked back. "Really? Are you for real, Grandma?" At the returning nod her spirits began to rally. "That's great to hear. It'll be good to see him again. Um, I'm sure I'll see him at school...

"What makes you think you won't see him before then? You know how those boys are. No gossip escapes them. They'll be pouncing on him almost before he has a chance to get off the plane. And since we still keep in touch with the high school tennis team, I'm sure they'll be dragging him along."

At that the girl's heart began to sink a little as she nodded rather glumly. It would be nice to actually be able to try and interact with Ryoma-kun in a friendly way without him being forced into her presence. He never seemed to have really minded her tagging along in the past, but it did always seem unfair to her for him to have to do it. She wondered if he would ever like to just be in her presence of his own free will, no tricks or coercion or accidents.

Besides, her former crush on him only made her more confused. It had been so long since she'd seen him in the flesh and she simply did not know how she'd react. Her first experience with having giddy feelings for someone else had been very sweet, but it really hadn't done her much good, at twelve Sakuno hadn't known how to handle a crush. She'd acted rather foolishly—ah, who was she kidding, she'd been a total fool. Ryoma really had been only interested in tennis—who could expect otherwise?-and she had always hovered at the edges, hoping for something she didn't really understand.

Even then, Sakuno thought, she had realized that twelve was just too young for any real romance, but he had been so handsome (still was, she'd seen pictures), collected, and so assertive and assured. Ryoma-kun had displayed so many traits she admired and wished she possessed herself. She had wanted just to be close to him and form some kind of good friendly relationship, perhaps with the promise of something more when they were older...

But he had not been easy to get along with. It drained her to keep up with his coolness and his downright arrogance. Ryoma was a good person and she really did like him, but he was not warm. Constant affection and assurance were not required for her, but Sakuno preferred to be in the company of people who didn't always point out her faults at almost every turn and make her feel so small, even if it was unintentional or thoughtlessly implied. Ryoma had never encouraged her that much. And she never knew what to say around him without feeling like a fool. Perhaps it was because she knew that Ryoma-kun was special; he'd be a somebody. Why should he think of her? She was just an average person with above-average cooking and artistic skills who could only do her best to be as good a person as she could be. Sometimes it felt like he would just swallow her whole. Not even Tezuka with all his great talent could make her feel so small.

Also, she was still so young. Her grandma always said that she couldn't date until she was officially sixteen and Sakuno was in no hurry. She'd seen what went on between Ann-chan, Momo-senpai, and Kamio-san. She'd seen the movies, heard stories of bad love gone even worse. It looked awful. Having a romantic relationship seemed like a hassle she could do very well without for quite a while. There were more important things in her eyes. There was a family to take care of, cooking skills to learn, a job to do, school to get through. She didn't need anything else. That was all a banquet she could feast on well enough.

Sakuno swallowed hard and clenched her fingers in her lap. Well, that was just it. Let fate do what it may and she would handle it with as much pluck as she could muster. She wouldn't become any world-famous personage anytime soon but she to keep on playing to her strengths and keep on making what improvements she could. If she saw him again soon, it was best to try and keep on letting him inspire her to fulfill what capacity she already had and not get caught up in comparisons. No one had a right to trample on what dreams and personality she had.

Now if she could only remember that and not fall apart the next time she saw him, it would be fine. Sakuno prayed that she could keep sight of herself.

"You're daydreaming, Sa-chan."

With a shake of her head Sakuno smiled back at her grandmother. Reassurance flooded into her as she gazed upon the face regarding her so kindly. Ryoma-kun would never have her Grandma look at him thus.

"Sorry, Grandma. I was just thinking."

"Already swooning over Ryoma, I see!" That got her grandma a swat on the knee in protest.

"No way! I was actually thinking that if Ryoma-kun insults my hair when he sees me again, I'll...I'll...do something..." she trailed off lamely before falling into a small fit of giggles. The other lady joined in and when they were done her grandmother had a slightly more solemn look to her despite her grin.

"Seriously, Sa-chan, if he hasn't acquired any more social skills since he left then don't let it bother you. Ryoma's a good boy but it doesn't matter if he transforms into the moon. In my eyes, you're the greatest treasure. No other grandmother can claim such a granddaughter as you."

There was nothing to say after that. The humid clouds now had brought on a drowsiness on the both of them along with the guttering rain. Heaving great sighs they both let their bodies relax. Sumire tilted back in her chair, crocheting put aside, and let her head tilt up to the ceiling. Sakuno pushed the footstool away and curled up on the thick rug underneath to settle her head upon her grandmother's knees. She had a fleeting thought that she wished this could last forever but then dismissed it as a nap came on.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

A dry, thirsty throat woke Sakuno up from a heavy nap. She wiped the blear from her eyes and slowly removed her head so as not to wake her grandmother. Along the way back from the kitchen she noticed that in the front pocket of the tote bag that served as her purse that her cellular phone had been turned off. Branding herself a fool for letting the phone ring all day and disturb her grandmother so much, she turned it on. Almost immediately the chime rang. Taken aback and wary of the unfamiliar number, which, at least, was not the dreaded private line, she answered tentatively. Did she never learn? Perhaps she was masochistic.

"Ryuuzaki-san?"

Sakuno had to tilt the phone away from her head so she could blink at it. The world was full of mysteries today; at least this one was not unpleasant. She smiled and spoke.

"Ohtori-san, is that you? What a nice surprise! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Ryuuzaki-san. I hope you haven't been doing too badly with what's been going on..." She could practically sense his blush over the phone. Sakuno sighed.

"It's certainly not your fault, Ohtori-san. I'll deal with it somehow. I bet all of you got an earful from Tezuka-buchou, especially Atobe-san."

"If he was feeling bad before, he feels really crappy now," a gruffer voice chimed in. "Tezuka murdered him in court yesterday."

"Shishido-senpai! Stop that! Anyway, Ryuuzaki-san, we're trying to do what we can. Atobe really feels responsible for all this and he wants to help you deal with it somehow,try to make it up to you. He actually tried to call your home all day today but your grandmother kept on calling him and-"

"She scares the hell out of him!" piped up a voice that might have been Jiroh's, Sakuno also heard a very agitated and regal voice bawl out for him to shut up. Sakuno vaguely wondered if Hyotei and Rikkai Dai didn't share the same kind of insane disease. Was it contagious?

"Well, that's true. Sorry, Atobe-buchou. But Ryuuzaki-san, we decided to try and call you on your cell a few times but it was always off. But here you are!" He lowered his voice to a whisper that she could barely make out over the natural interference on the phone line. "It's extremely hard for Buchou to admit any kind of wrongdoing, you know, so I would like to formally apologize to you on his behalf, even if he wouldn't want me to..."

Sakuno had tried to be as quiet as she could when answering the cell phone but her grandmother possessed rather sharp hearing when it came to detecting things that annoyed her. A shadow loomed in the hallway. Sakuno gulped when she saw the glint of snapped patience in the formidable old woman's eyes. It was the glint of someone about to take a hatchet to someone else's face. Sakuno cried out when her grandmother snatched the cell out of her hand and bellowed into it.

"Who the hell IS this? If I find out who you are, you punk, I'm going to staple a Japanese flag to your butt and send you to China!"

There was an audible squeal and the line went dead.

Sakuno had once heard in class that Alexander Graham Bell had been so annoyed by people calling at all hours of the day on his own invention that he'd finally up and unplugged the thing from his laboratory and never had anything to do with it willingly ever again. In her mind, Mr. Bell had had exactly the right attitude.


	5. Adventure 5: A Most Inscrutable Species

_**AN:**__ Hello and greetings! It's good to be back at last._

_This is, frankly, a rather weird and __**long**__ chapter I'm a bit off my game, I suppose. It stars Coach Ryuuzaki, Sengoku, and Nanjiroh as well as Sakuno; it was originally planned to be the second half of the fourth chapter before I decided to split things up. That's why Coach Ryuuzaki still plays a major role even after starring in her own chapter before this. I must admit that while writing this was fun, it was also very TOUGH. I mean, pulling-teeth-tough at times. Sengoku was especially a challenge. He was a hard character for me to 'get.' He likes looking at girls and is a taaaaad bit pervy, I think, but he's not as crass as Nanjiroh. I hope I did him justice. If not—well, once again my inferior skills sacrifice him on the altar of comedy._

_And just to make the structure of this weird story clearer, I do have an overall plan plotted out for this story that keeps things somewhat tied. However, I want to also make each chapter stand a bit on its own and deal with certain characters in particular as they interact with Sakuno. I simply like putting her together with other people, often characters she doesn't really meet in either the manga or the anime, and see where it goes. You can almost think of them as very interrelated one-shots, I guess. In this chapter, Sakuno struggles with learning more of the (ahem) facts of life. I also wanted to explore her family's past a little as well as the interactions between Sumire and Nanjiroh. If it bores you, I'm sorry, but I like exploring Sakuno and making her more than simply a romantic foil for a PoT boy._

_To reiterate,, since there are an overwhelming number of schools in PoT, I unfortunately can't cover them all. That means places like Rokkaku and Shitenhouji might have to be cut out, though I would like for Kintarou to have at least a cameo. The cast of PoT is just HUMONGOUS and it's impossible for me to juggle it all. So if you don't see your favorite character, I apologize in advance. Sakuno can only meet so many people before she goes insane! But if you look carefully in this chapter, you'll find a reference to Ryoga (Ryoma's brother) tossed out for your delight. _

_Finally, two jokes rely a bit on somewhat obscure info. One: In Japan, each February there's a festival called Setsubun where people drive out 'ogres' from their houses by throwing soybeans. Two: The 'Ryuu' in Ryuuzaki means 'dragon.'__You'll see what I mean when you read on—I hope! There's also a bit of reference to Japanese matchmaking customs later on, but a more detailed explanation is at the end notes. These have gone on too long already!_

**Sakuno Adventure #5: A Most Inscrutable Species**

A new lesson Sakuno swiftly learned upon returning to work: It was incredibly distracting to have people who would have liked nothing better to see you garroted by one of your own braids garrisoned not fifty meters away from your workplace, always watching your every twitch, just waiting for you to flinch before they pounced.

Even the windows of the van across the way seemed to glint with a hungry sheen, sunlight blazing off the panes like a glare unceasingly trained on her. Sakuno could sense the heat boring into her skull whenever her head was bent down over her work, and she kept herself occupied with as much work as possible today. She did not like looking at the Hyotei people. It was like the visual equivalent of nails against a chalkboard. The memories and feelings just looking at them dredged up made Sakuno's skin crawl.

Her brow furrowed in distracted concentration as her hands molded some more rice for a fresh set of onigiri, her mind refocusing on what dishes needed to be replenished--more fried rice next, perhaps. From now on every dish had to receive the utmost care, the most thorough treatment; no less than one hundred percent would do. The food needed to make up with excellent flavor and presentation for what it lacked in exotic appeal; it was not everyday one found ready-made French, Italian, and even Indian food in Japan.

But in her personal philosophy only half of cooking a good meal was in being careful; every ingredient and step also needed zest, verve, and genuine love for the labor. She loved the feel of balled rice crumbling in her fingers and of dough pounded beneath her hands as much as a potter loves the feel of clay spinning on the wheel. The almost infinite combinations of aromas and smells she could get from mixing spices were a symphony of delights. And knowing that people were nurtured by the work of her hands and perhaps genuinely savored it—that might have been the best part of all. It was an art that literally kept people alive, kept them healthy.

That's what _they_ wanted, no doubt: her to allow them to wrinkle her attention towards the job hand, to dampen the happiness and pride she found in the task of creation. She resolved not to let _them_ undermine her with their sneaky mental chicanery; her confidence in the abilities she had as an up and coming chef's apprentice, and in the skills of Taka-san and the Kawamuras, would overcome.

Although he had several years still remaining in his own apprenticeship, Taka had become quite adept at making fine sushi under his father's expert guidance. Sakuno had the utmost confidence in the food the two of them had prepared this morning together; Taka too understood the Hyotei challenge's meaning and was working with especial care. Mr. Kawamura himself had overseen them, had helped them choose the finest fish, and had taste-tested a few pieces, finding nothing but goodness in them. The sushi and sashimi had posed the most difficult challenge. The rest was much easier for her to make fresh on-site.

The noodles she used in her udon and other dishes had come directly from local producers, her meat and vegetables the freshest the Kawamuras could buy from the market. No one could accuse her of being slip-shod with her ingredients. If the plagues from Hyotei thought that she had no intention of putting her all into this, they were in for a nasty shock.

Mr. and Mrs. Kawamura had been delighted with the extra diligence shown by their apprentices and seemed to suspect nothing. Both she and Taka-san agreed it was best to keep quiet about the silly squabble as long as sales didn't utterly plummet. The bigger problem for Sakuno was keeping her grandmother from finding out.

Ever since the grounding over the weekend her Grandma had suspected that the underlying cause of her granddaughter's outburst lay deeper than a funk brought on by the rain. With hindsight, Sakuno wished she had gone off to work today with her normally content, happy expression instead of frown so determined it looked like she was off to fight a life or death duel, no spring in her step. Grandma _always _picked up on those things. Sakuno still did not suppose her Grandma knew the exact nature of the trouble: if that had been so, many, many parents of Hyotei students would probably have suffered blown-out eardrums by this point, maybe even the principal and Coach Sakaki too. Everyone regardless of school thus far had acted with unnatural circumspection, at least around authority figures, and it being summer break meant that no one had to worry about teachers or coaches butting in.

No one except her, that was, and whether it was a curse or blessing she could not say. Sakuno knew that just by wanting to come along today to 'do some shopping' while she worked meant that her Grandma suspected something. If things got any worse then someone would squeal on everything; Sakuno knew that if her grandmother directly pressed him for the truth then Tezuka, incapable of dissembling for long periods of time, would not keep quiet. Or else Grandma would catch one of her other senpai unawares and torture the information out of them. Either way, Sakuno still did not want things to end like that. If there was going to be any failure or resolution, it would be on her very own terms.

Nevertheless, the knowledge that her Grandma would not be too far away today also bolstered Sakuno's spirits immensely because it meant speedy assistance in case of any bullying. She felt almost cheerful now, eyesore across the way or not. Perhaps things would not be so tortuous after all.

A little before noontime, however, the heat had reduced time to a creep that brought on a lethargic sensation within her bones. She had already worked up a bad sweat working over a hot cooking table in the heat and today business had been a bit on the slow side, but it had been like that for everyone. She began squinting through drowsy eyes, lids dull and drooping. Her thoughts wandered off to dwell on musings that sometimes were just downright weird, even for her. Example: If this heat had made her so drowsy, did it put Akagutawa-san into a coma? Why did he sleep so much, anyway? Did he have some kind of neurological disease? Or maybe when it got so hot he retired to a coffin in his basement? Except he really didn't seem the vampirish sort; perhaps he hibernated like a bear instead.

Lulled by her off-beat speculation on Jiroh's sleeping patterns, the sudden intrusion of real life in her cozy little world acted just as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her.

Something slammed against the front of the booth while she had her back turned to get some more ingredients from the cooler. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a patch of black hair hover just level with the counter before dropping shakily from view. Sakuno whirled around at the commotion and managed to somehow knock her head against the shelf above her head. She did her best to ignore the pain and fumbled to catch a salt shaker that nearly slipped off the counter.

When a hand suddenly appeared on the countertop, its fingers spread wide and blindly searching for something, she clutched the shaker to her chest as if it were an ancient protective talisman to ward off any evil intent the groping hand designed. A disembodied moan rose up. Sakuno stepped backwards once more to press up against the booth's back wall, face very alarmed now. She couldn't even squeak for help.

"Ah, I'm starving, poor wandering monk I am," the voice croaked. "Won't you please spare me some alms, miss? I'm so weak!"

Inching very slowly so she could look over the edge of the counter, having reached for the nearest handy pan just in case, Sakuno carefully peered over to find the rest of this professed starving monk. A rather sorry sight indeed unfolded before her. A lank, scruffy-headed man, his Shinto robes rather carelessly attended to, had collapsed in front of the booth, his face bent low. His limbs trembled as if struggling with the effort of keeping him propped up.

Not having met many monks outside a temple setting, let alone having one actually beg her for alms, Sakuno felt the usual flustered feeling coming on. The Kawamuras never had any policy about monks. But surely a bowl of rice with some vegetables wouldn't hurt the finances, and it was best to share when the booth had such a bounty to offer. Sternly she spoke to herself: '_Don't you ever forget, Sakuno-chan: A Ryuuzaki never lets anyone leave her table empty-handed.' _

It always helped her clear her resolve when she addressed herself by name.Working her lips, Sakuno managed to assure him that a bowl of rice would be coming up.

At this the monk, suddenly charged with energy, lifted up his head to reveal his stubbly chin and he grinned widely. Something about that grin immediately put Sakuno on her guard, although she really couldn't say what exactly about it seemed so . . .off. It just seemed that a true, good monk shouldn't need to grin with such glancing teeth or stretch his lips so widely at her.  
Now that she saw him better, his face didn't seem emaciated, nor did he have a begging bowl. All of this coming to light made Sakuno only the more confused and unsure of her actions.

"Thank you, thank you! Your charity will not go unnoticed by karma, young miss." He glanced at the little offering set on the counter for him, whereupon his perky face and posture wilted somewhat. "This'll do, yes. White rice is a favorite of mine, even though it has been so long since I had a full meal and I got put in the hospital a few months ago because of beriberi…"

Once more Sakuno's fingers began twiddling with the end of a braid. Beriberi, malnutrition—really, now! Her intuition may not have been the best but it had been honed enough that she could tell a few things; this monk's coloring and liveliness sure didn't scream 'starvation' to her. But he had made his point: the rice-bowl did seem rather paltry. Sakuno blushed for shame at her lack of generosity. A quick apology staggered out from her mouth and soon the bowl was bedecked with slices of sukiyaki and vegetables swimming in broth. She had hesitated at first to add any meat products but her guest had assured her that it was not taboo for his practice.

Soon enough the monk was slurping away at his hearty bowl, making rather a messy ordeal of it, Sakuno couldn't help notice, and in quick time he clunked the empty dish back upon the counter. His hopeful smile was rather marred by the half-eaten noodle dangling out from his bottom lip.

"More?"

He certainly acted very greedy for a monk; nevertheless, Sakuno in her usual way did not speak or act on her thoughts and turned to refill the bowl. It was as she moved to fetch new ingredients that a very unwelcome pressure made itself known inside her stomach, replacing her previous heat-born fatigue in a most unfair tag-team on her poor body. She had worked non-stop all morning after a very scanty breakfast, nor had she gone to the restroom since leaving the Kawamura shop; critical mass was about to be reached soon.

In an unconscious act Sakuno began shifting from one leg to another and tried not to stare as the monk ate. And—heavens, he really was perverse in the most basic sense of the word. He had managed to scarf down the first bowl in less than two minutes, but this time around he was nibbling at the rice with extreme, painful leisure. He had even gone so far as to haul out a magazine from his robe to peruse it lazily, his jaw moving slow and wide open like a cow's. In addition, he had pulled out a cigarette to balance in his free hand while the other moved his disposable chopsticks. She had no idea that monks were allowed to smoke.

To top it all off—not that it was ladylike to notice such things—but judging from the cover his reading material was actually a lingerie catalogue. Apparently there was a sale on thongs going on somewhere.

Even Sakuno's tendency towards obliviousness could not make her deny the fact: this was just one lousy monk. It was as if the universe had taken every bad little habit known to man and heaped it all up in one single man. The next thing she knew he'd be picking his nose in front of her.

Her dubious customer raised his head, eyes a bit sharper when he gazed at her. Sakuno tried not to shift her feet so much and averted her eyes, but he was not put off, especially when her traitor of a stomach gave out a soft growl. Putting down his chopsticks he pointed at her with his cigarette in a grand gesture. "You don't have to wait on me hand and foot. If you need to close the booth for a few minutes or so, I'll just sit off to the side and finish my meal."

"I—I—" Humiliations galore was the only way to describe her feelings at that moment.

"Oh, I see how it is. You think just because I look scruffy and because I'm poor as dirt means I'm untrustworthy. Youths these days! Where is the trust, where is the _love?_ If you can't trust a monk, a most humble servant of the gods, then who _can_ you trust? The assumptions people make! What do you think I'd do? Rob you in full daylight? Honestly, little miss! My desires are simple; all I need's food."

Utterly punch-drunk with his melodramatics, Sakuno could think of nothing else to do but apologize for her apparent rudeness. The monk only laughed her off in mid-bow with the wave of his hand.

"Ah, it's all right. To show my continued goodwill, while I eat I can keep an eye on things. I'll be glad to do it. Now go, shoo! Do what you need to do and get some vittles. People should take care of their bodies, especially growing young ladies!" The monk nodded, utter confidence in his authority radiating from his rakishly tilted smile and making him seem rather boyish—perhaps that was why his gazes weren't quite leers to her. It struck an odd chord with Sakuno. Something in this very, very weird man's brashness felt familiar rather than threatening or upsetting.

The call of her bladder and stomach combined had made Sakuno desperate enough that she was willing to risk being credulous. The monk appeared sincere enough and the vibes she had gotten from him hadn't been those of thievery, at least; whatever she sensed was off about him, it wasn't a capacity for larceny. She left the monk sitting out to the side, gorging on some pieces of manju she gave him for dessert as thanks in between puffs of smoke. Still, Sakuno took the strongbox of cash with her to the nearest public restroom after she firmly locked up. She even took it into the stall; it was a _clean _restroom, she reasoned. There was probably a better way to go about it but she had no idea what such a way entailed, so she did the best she could.

Not wanting to be too long away from home base, Sakuno quickly found a kindred outdoor booth to patronize. She would get a quick meal to stave off her own hunger and boost her energy. She would not stoop so low as to have to plunder her own kitchen for food; she needed a little break anyway.

A quick trip to a noodle stand provided her with suitable nourishment and she sat down at a vacant bench to eat it. Body relaxing, her eyes wandered over the passing crowds in quiet observation. Her focus tunneled in on only the people walking right in front of her bench as her mind took another brief vacation from reality. As she daydreamed her hand brushed her braids so that they fell over her blouse front and exposed the heated nape of her neck to the breezes to cool off. With a sigh Sakuno cast down her eyes, watching her sandaled toes wiggle, little suspecting she was in a most prime position to be caught unawares by a type of person who sought relief from the doldrums in quite a different fashion.

"You've got cute feet," someone said behind her. Immediately Sakuno's shoulders stiffened and the toes ceased all movement. Someone, a boy a bit taller than she, was standing dangerously close to the boundaries of her personal space. His carrot-orange hair might have been considered unusual to her once, but nowadays it seemed that every tennis team in the Tokyo-Kanagawa area had at least one redhead in their lineups. She personally suspected that at least one of them (but not Eiji-senpai, for certain) had to be using dye . . . she collected her thoughts and focused on her new acquaintance. He was arrayed all in green, she noticed--like a leprechaun, a very tall one.

"Excuse me?"

The boy had a broad, twinkling face that seemed nice enough but something about him reminded Sakuno slightly too much of the monk she'd fed. And she was certain she had been gawked at once by this very same person, sometime in the past, sometime when Tomo-chan had been with her. Her heat-slurred brain couldn't recall his exact name but she recognized his face, his insouciant manner. He would say something silly to her and embarrass her; she just knew that, even if she couldn't pin down the boy's name yet. Cute feet would only be the tip of this disaster, she was already afraid.

"Nothing. Just said you have cute feet, that's all." He winked at her. "Then again, all of you is cute. In fact—let me see something really quick. May I sit here for a moment?" At her automatic nod he sank down beside her. Then he reached around, craning his neck and tilting his back, and Sakuno's back muscles flinched when his fingers found the back tag of her blouse. "Well, well: "Made in Heaven." I was right. An angel has come down to earth this day! Lucky!"

Face totally aflame now, Sakuno tucked the cause of her current discomfort, her feet, so that they were hidden from his sight and she clutched her take-out noodle bowl. She stared at the stringy buckwheat strips as if she could augur what her response should be in them but found nothing but a lumpy mass of gibberish. He was staring at her now, no doubt waiting for a response. She must speak!

"That, th-that kind of pick-up line is…"

"Cute and charming?"

"Um—I was going to say 'cheesy,' but…" she took in a great gulp of air, hardly believing what she had said. Her rattled composure had made her too forward; she was of the belief that even boys teasing her deserved some degree of politeness. "I'm very sorry. That was rude of me."

The boy looked undaunted but he did rub the back of his head in a kind of tacit apology. "But it was cheesy in a cute way, at least?"

Ah, thought Sakuno, perhaps this boy didn't pose so great a threat as she feared. He was too easy-going, rebounded very easily. He'd probably been blown off before and did not act very seriously anyway. It wouldn't hurt to humor him a little. "I suppose so."

"Yes! Lucky! That's what I was going for, you see. Chicks dig cute in any form or fashion, so it doesn't matter if it's cheesy. You think it's cute enough that you'd like to maybe get an ice-cream or something with me?"

"Sorry. I can't date anyone on my own until I'm sixteen." Bless her Grandma for coming up with that particular household rule! Sakuno never knew how useful a blanket excuse it could be until that moment. He looked at her askance, which compelled her to explain: "My Grandma won't let me. I—I know that sounds like a silly excuse, but if you knew her, you'd understand."

"She's that scary?"

"You might as well ask me to go to jail; I'd be grounded for so long. But, um, I was actually

thinking more along the lines of what she would do to _you_," Sakuno murmured. "I couldn't guarantee you'd stay out of the hospital."

His eyebrows arched in thin alarm as he whistled his astonishment. "I see. Can't blame me for trying. Well, since you have shattered my hopes and dreams, can I at least know your name?"

After she had given it, he reached out a hand to shake hers vigorously. "Sengoku Kiyosumi. Pleased to meet you. "

It would have been more pleasing to her if the bright green clothing he wore had not seized her with a sudden sense of alarm. Sengoku was not wearing his uniform but the mere color scheme, along with the boy's name, had sufficiently triggered Sakuno's sensory memory to recall his stature among the junior and high school tennis world. He also had a reputation for sometimes swinging by other schools to ogle at the girls through the chain link fences—that was how she knew him, she recalled, before Ryoma had flattened him accidentally with the tethered tennis ball she and Tomo-chan had been playing with. Instinctively Sakuno began to scoot away from him, almost pushing herself off the bench's edge in the process.

"You, you go to Yamabuki High. I know—know you were a Junior All-Star in middle school" she blurted out, mouth stumbling over her shock. Sengoku nodded and a pleasantly surprised smile graced her.

"Oh, so you probably know something about the school tennis circuits then, I take it? Do you play as well?"

"Sort of; it's not my main activity now, though. Oh, look at the time--I'm very honored to meet you face-to-face, Sengoku-san, but now my lunch break is over and I really must go." She sprang up, bowl still half-filled with noodles. She'd keep it in the ice box and eat the rest later. Now the imperative action was to beat a hasty retreat. He acted innocently enough, but in times of hostility Sakuno figured that no student of Yamabuki would bring her any good—who knew whether he had friends who were Atobe fans or who were keen to ally with Hyotei to get back at Seigaku for some grudge?

Just the very thought of it brought her rare irritation. May all the mothers of any Yamabuki, Hyotei, or St. Rudolph student curse themselves for expelling such wretched creatures from their loins! Except, she had to hastily add, for Fuji Yuuta-san. He had always been kind to her.

"Aw, don't be like that." Sengoku's head bowed and his eyes had a wounded look. "I just thought you looked a bit lonesome, that's all."

"I'm sorry, Sengoku-san. It's been a little tough for me lately. Job and everything like that—" She really did feel regret for having acted so brusquely, but now that any Yamabuki student was the potential enemy she could take no risks.

He brightened at her murmured apology and trundled right along, swinging himself on his feet in kind. "I might as well see you off to wherever you're going; I don't have anything better to do right now." Much to her consternation Sengoku easily leaped from the bench and fell in step beside her. Sakuno fluttered her hands, tried to tell him that he need not go through such trouble, but with the heaven-sent selective hearing bestowed to all girl-lovers he breezed over her objections.

Each step they took closer to the booth felt like a death march. She tried to console herself by thinking that perhaps Sengoku really did not care about interschool politics or had not even heard of the tussle, yet that sounded like hollow wishful thinking even in her own head. The sports teams in every school seemed to be stuffed with gossip-mongers; he was bound to have at least known some of the details.

Along the way Sengoku smiled at her easily and tried to make small-talk. The walk and trying to wrangle a few words out of her took so much of his attention that the poor boy did not seem aware of his surroundings until they had stopped in front of the booth. Off to the side the monk had procured some headphones and a portable music player in her absence and was bopping his head slowly to the beat (he knew English but never really understood these lyrics; he had tried to ask his son about them but Ryoma, bitterly regretting he ever got his father such a nice Christmas gift, always steadfastly refused to explain what 'lovely lady lumps' were). Eyes closed in hypnotic rapture, he still was in the process of finishing off his manju and rice bowl. Some guardian, Sakuno thought a bit sourly, but her anxiety over Sengoku's reaction did not give her time to dwell on second-rate monks.

Sengoku's smile had faded away. He swiveled his head upwards to read the banner hanging from the booth eaves. Then he turned his head to spy the Hyotei van. "Oh--_damn_."

His finger almost jabbed her in the nose. "You're the girl that has all of the Hyotei Atobe fans' panties in a bunch. You're the girl who—oh, damn, damn, _damn_." With each word he uttered he stomped around in a small circle and hit the heel of his hand against his forehead. "How can my luck have gone so wrong? And you were so cute, too! This sucks!"

"It sure does!" Her voice came out more heated than she would have liked, his distress magnifying hers in a weird echoing effect. "It sucks that I only wanted to reclaim my rightful property from Atobe-san and now it's snowballed into _this!_ It's not as if I asked to become the Keigo Atobe Fan Club's Enemy Number One, Sengoku-san!" Her frustration shifted into a suspicion as she eyed him and then gazed over the counter at her cutlery and at the drawer that held the goods purchased from Niou. If this were some kind of trap she would need to grab the nearest defensive weapon available. "Why are you really here, Sengoku-san? I've upheld my end of the bargain so far; there's no need for a Yamabuki student to be here if nobody from Seigaku is. If you've come to pester me, you might as well go home right now, please."

In the event that he didn't do as she asked, she quickly decided, and worse came to worse, she'd stick some firecrackers down his pants. If that didn't get the point across, nothing would.

Sengoku's much less mirthful eyes squinted at her in displeasure before his whole face jerked in sudden surprise. His voice came out in an almost hurt squawk. "What? You think I'm in with them? That's borderline prejudice. I don't care about what goes on at Hyotei. If there's anything I don't want, it's being associated with anything to do with that frumptious freak's fan club. Give me some credit!"

Though still wary, Sakuno didn't gaze upon her chopping knives with her former vehemence, nor did she any longer think that firecrackers would be necessary here. "I'll take your word that you're not in with them, Sengoku-san. And the other members in your tennis club?"

"Not any of the regulars had anything to do with it. Some of the other tennis club members at my school are in on it, though, and Dan brought it to our attention because it involved Atobe and a Seigaku student…but it all turned out to be some damn fan club kerfluffle that we Regulars don't give a damn about, really. But since Yamabuki has quite a few Atobe lovers despite school loyalty, a few of them offered their help when Hyotei started snooping around."

"I see."

"But don't you worry, Sakuno-chan. I don't know about the non-Regulars but I can promise that my team won't bother you. Same for Jin, too. He's still a trouble maker, but not nearly as bad as before. He doesn't fight with girls over things like this. And—if you work for the Kawamuras, you'd automatically get a free pass from him. I think the only reason they approached him in the first place is because of his history with messing around, but he won't have anything to do with it. Speaking of your buddies on the tennis team, I thought you'd have 'em out full-force by now, if what they say about the situation's true."

"I didn't want them drawn in the first place. But Taka-san watches out for me and so do Tezuka-buchou and Fuji-senpai, so my other senpai-tachi follow their lead. Still, I wanted to face this on my own. It's my problem, after all. Though I wish Atobe-san could do more to stop this, since it was his entire fault in the first place."

She felt very guilty just for voicing the nasty thought aloud but it only made Sengoku chuckle. He shook his head at her, ruddy hair swaying.

"Aren't you even a little intimidated? And what can you do without any help? You know how to resolve this?"

"Of course I hate this whole situation, Sengoku-san, but I can't just lie down and roll over for something that wasn't my fault. And as for a plan—" Her elbow planted itself on the booth counter so she could rest her heavy head in her palm. "I haven't got a clue yet. But I'll think of some way to clear this up."

"Ah, Sakuno-chan is so brave. A lone warrior-bunny sets out to face the foe, all by her lonesome…"

The light mocking of her situation might have brought Sakuno some more cheer at seeing her little crises put into some perspective but it gave her scant comfort. "It's that bad for me, huh? Well, I still have to try." When she at last reentered her work station, Sakuno found a way to change the subject. "You never told me why you were out and about here today, Sengoku-san. What've you been up to?"

With all ease he replied that he had merely been out bird watching; Sakuno, not really wanting to think it over too carefully since so many thoughts occupied her mind already, took him at face value. For his own part, Sengoku could let his conscience feel no guilty prickles—a chick was still a chick, after all, and he couldn't help it if his companion didn't force him to admit his dodgy word-logic. He was simply happy to partake in company both cute and female.

"As long as I'm here," he said, "I might as well get some food for myself. I guess it's the least I can do to show some support for the lone warrior-bunny. Business been slow today?"

"A bit," Sakuno admitted, happy that he had the decency to give the Kawamuras his solicitation. He ordered a full lunch meal and as Sengoku ate they continued into an easier, freer conversation. He acted very genially towards her, his smile easy and open, which in turn made Sakuno feel more at ease with him. Even if sometimes he halted in the middle of a word or phrase so he could turn his head to glance at a tank-top wearing girl who happened to pass by, Sakuno thought him quite nice. She could also bring up the subject of tennis with him, so she need not fear running out of subject matter. They talked about their teams' current rankings and strengths and soon started pulling up the past.

Sengoku pushed his empty plate towards her with a lazy air just as they brought up the subject of nicknames, which got them discussing the significance of 'Viper' and 'Fujiko' and 'Oishi-mama.' Then he had mentioned to her that most teams by now knew that Ryoma Echizen had had a nickname among certain bouncy members of the Seishun team, a fact that Sakuno had not been able to deny.

"But I think that Ryoma-kun is supposed to have grown some over the years, Sengoku-san, so I don't think 'Ochibi' would fit him so much anymore." She then cocked her head at him, something in her memory surfacing. "Don't you have some kind of nickname as well?"

The pride on his face seemed to effuse from every pore and little freckle. "Yeah, I do. I'm called 'Lucky' Sengoku—can't you tell? Even when I'm not in school, it's always best for me to have something green on me almost every day. Green is my luckiest color; that's one reason I went Yamabuki in the first place, because of the awesome uniforms. " He ran his hand up and down his shirt front to give emphasis to his demonstration, his finger fiddling with the four-leafed clover stuck in his pocket. He leaned in over the counter closer towards her. "But do you wanna see what gives me most of my luck? I hardly can stand it if I'm not wearing 'em!"

His fingers had reached down to his pants' waistband and were poised to pull up the material underneath. Aghast, Sakuno almost choked on a squeak and slammed a pan down on the counter in her desperation to stop him before something horrible happened. "Sengoku-san, it's all right! I believe you! My cousins are in karate and they have…lucky items like that too."

"Dammit, what's the point of wearing your lucky shamrock underpants if nobody asks to_ see_ 'em?" He turned to her, face indignant. "Surely you have your own special pair of lucky underwear, don't you? Or a bra? Girls have lots more options than boys, after all."

Sakuno actually did have a rather comely star-spangled number that she liked girding her loins with, but she certainly was not going to tell this up and coming letch about it. She settled for crossing her arms defensively and frowning. "That's not a question you ask people right off the bat, Sengoku-san! And don't say that word, please Sengoku-san."

"What, bra?"

"Yes! That—word!" She would sooner pull out her own teeth than drag this conversation down even further by speaking of a garment that his kind were forbidden to discuss in polite society.

"That's right. You don't talk about that kind of thing until at least the third date," the strange monk's voice broke over their discussion with ease while he clopped down his empty bowl. Sakuno whirled to him and brought out some more rice just to keep him quiet. In genuine alarm, apparently not having seen the scrappy monk eating beside the way or else not figuring a man of the robes would dare barge in on their most philosophical discussion, Sengoku sprang in front of the counter, arms spread wide as if to shield her.

"What would you know about it, old man? Aren't you supposed to be a monk? You're not a very good one!" Sengoku turned his head and spoke over his shoulder to her. "Don't worry, Sakuno-chan, I'll save you from his perversion!"

"I'm a very special kind of monk, brat. The kick-ass kind," the other man rejoined, jabbing his thumb at his stubbly jaw, tight with a fierce smirk. Sakuno figured his teeth had cemented themselves in a clinch. He threw down his cigarette. "And I should know about this, I'm married after all. So you don't have to worry about 'perversion' from me—"

"That's even worse, Mr. Monk." Sakuno moaned, hardly believing what was going on and cursing her penchant for drawing in these types of people. Would there ever be a day, she wondered, a sweet day when she would have the chance to deal with normal, status-quo abiding people who minded their own business?

"She must have been really desperate to have settled for you," snapped Sengoku, his own face going a bit crimson as he answered with a tight smirk of his own. "You have no flair. Girls like charming guys like me, you know, not creeps like you. Why don't you go off and pray with your rosary somewhere, do your job? Get back to work!"

The monk snorted and practically threw his rice bowl on the counter as he wiped away the flecks of rice that stuck to the corners of his mouth with a whip like motion, and even then a few grains clung to the stubble stubbornly. "Flair! You think you've got what it takes, brat? I heard you talking to the little miss on the way here and your lines were pathetic. You don't seem to understand that the ability to hit on cuties is a sport: the sport of kings! Of _kings! _You disgrace the art. I've never seen anything so butchered before. If I weren't a monk and married and if were a couple of decades younger, I'd show you a thing or two!"

By this time the two had moved very close to each other, their hands hovering over robe fronts and collars just itching to grasp the cloth. Sakuno had seen her uncles act very similarly when they sometimes got into heated debates; some of her female relatives in their coarser moments called this situation, if she recalled correctly, as a 'pissing contest.' She also thought that her Grandma called one of Kaidoh and Momo-senpai's arguments the same thing. The signs were clear, but the _why_ of the question escaped her; perhaps talking to girls properly was much more serious business than she thought. If her Grandma were here, perhaps she could ask. . .

"What in _blazes _is going on here?"

As if she had been summoned by though alone, three heads snapped towards Sumire Ryuuzaki, her fisted hands akimbo and her mouth in a line as sharp as a hatchet. Sakuno knew that stance all too well and she began to cudgel her brain immediately into trying to figure out how to run damage control on this situation. Her grandmother's stance was not truly aggressive, but she knew it as a warning sign that the older lady could spring into action like a tigress at the slightest provocation. Those fists could leave those comfortably wide hips and start swinging with extreme prejudice.

"Grandma! Welcome back! I—ah, well, Mr. Monk here was very hungry and I thought it would be unkind to let him starve, and then Sengoku-san came over to visit and get a snack as well…And then…well…circumstances…I mean, coincidences--"

Her grandmother's eyes had zeroed in specifically on the monk, lips thinning further. The monk began a shuffle in an attempt to get further away, his once-brazen grin very watery now. What was more astonishing to Sakuno was that he seemed to have recognized the exact same warning signs and seemed very nervous, as if anticipating her Grandma's reaction.

"What's this? _Starving,_ Nanjiroh? Isn't Rinko feeding you properly?" Sumire, a sneer plastered on her face, took a firm step forward, the fingers on her right hand trembling. The monk had thrown his hands over his head

"I was hungry, truly I was! And I left my wallet at home! By the time I got to this area of town, it seemed like such a hassle to have to drive all the way back—"

"You conned my granddaughter out of rice and some very nice manju just because you were too lazy to drive fifteen minutes back to your temple? And not only that, you and this…_boy_ thought it would be fun to harass my granddaughter talking about I don't even want to know what? It's good for her that I came in time—but very bad for you!" Her grandmother's voice had increasingly risen in volume with every word until she practically shrieked the ending phrase.

"I didn't know she was your granddaughter," Nanjiroh pleaded as his palms clapped together in the supplication of a man praying to be spared from death. His wild eyes darted to Sakuno. "Little miss, please save me!"

"And save _me_," added Sengoku, face noticeably paler.

"Grandma, wait," Sakuno called out, wanting to keep blood from being spilled on the pavement this afternoon, but her Grandma would have none of it. Sumire sliced her hand through the air towards Sakuno's direction to negate any and all protests.

"Don't try to defend them, Sakuno. These two need to be taught a lesson. And you, Nanjiroh—you may be nearing middle age, my boy, but you'll never be so old that I can't punish you when you misbehave!"

By this time Grandma had advanced right into the monk's face. Along the way, just as she had said the words 'this boy' she had shot out a hand to catch Sengoku's cheek in an unbreakable pinch that kept his flailing self in tow. Before anyone could blink the other hand had come up and now held Nanjiroh's cheek in its iron grip. Sakuno felt her own face tingle in sympathy. In the complete reverse of nature's intention, her Grandma's pinches weren't meant to be signs of affection but rather of punishment—they could leave bruises if she was in a particularly bad mood.

Feeling it was time to step in, Sakuno stretched out a hand to rest on her grandmother's arm while she ventured to soothe the dragon's wrath. "It's all right, Grandma. It is! They weren't harassing me, I promise you they weren't. We were just having a--_lively _conversation. And even if he wasn't starving, it's always good to be charitable to monks, isn't it? And Sengoku-san paid for his food already. He was showing me support."

Sumire did not budge her fingers. "Lively, you say. Lively enough to have you blushing like a tomato, it seems. Sakuno, if people talk about obscene things to you, you don't have to stand for it."

"My boxers _aren't_ obscene," Sengoku managed from his distorted and stretched mouth. It came out rather mushy ('My bo'kthers aren't obschene!') but it could be understood well enough that he received his captor's full attention.

"Boxers? How _dare _you talk about underwear in front of my granddaughter! Have you no shame, no decency?" Slowly she scanned the boy with dawning recognition at the green clothes he wore. "You look very familiar now. You—you go to Yamabuki, don't you? Wait. Sen…Sengoku, was it? Sengoku Kiyosumi?" A nod from him and she snorted her derision. "It _would _be one of Banji's boys who harasses my granddaughter with such indecency!"

While venting her spleen Sumire's eye alighted on a large pot full of uncooked dried soybeans that Sakuno had set aside for when Taka-san took over the next shift; they had not even been soaked yet and were plenty hard. Seizing the opportunity, the enraged lady suddenly reached over the counter and hefted the pot closer, setting it on the counter. Sakuno protested that the beans would be used later, Taka-san might need them, but her Grandma insisted that a point needed to be made here.

"It seems I have been a failure as a grandparent, when my girl still doesn't know how to defend herself against troublemakers like yourselves. I really do need to teach you how to be more assertive, Sa-chan. Well, the first lesson begins now. Observe! This is how a woman takes care of things."

Forthwith her Grandma scooped up the little ready-made missiles and took aim. "Here! Have some beans! Beans are the spoils of ogres like you trying to take advantage of my granddaughter!" Volley after volley of soybeans launched from the capable old hands, hitting both unfortunates about their faces and shoulders with deadly accuracy.

"You ol' hag, that's not ladylike at all!" Nanjiroh's voice came out in a half-wail. He was bent double in a defensive position, arms over his head and face. "Those things hurt, you know! And it's out of season, too!"

All he got to dignify his outrage was a snort from the old lady. "Just be glad they aren't steaming hot." Her head whipped to see her granddaughter gaping, unable to grasp this was actually happening in front of her very eyes. "Sakuno, don't just stand there! You back me up here. This is part of your lesson. Show me you are my true granddaughter! Time to put the 'ryuu' in Ryuuzaki! Make them feel the heat."

Hardly able to argue wit such a demand, Sakuno took a few handfuls and lobbed them with less force; the men cried out again in betrayal—"Sakuno-chan, how could you!"—but Sakuno, although she hated to admit it, thought it rather fun underneath her pity for them.

The burst of anger had made Sumire's anger abate, but her wrath had not spent itself completely. Poor Sengoku found himself once again imprisoned by an iron grip on his already aching cheek while Nanjiroh felt the tigress's claws dig into his shoulder.

"There. I feel better. Now we can all start over and make a new breast of things like civilized people. Sakuno, allow me to introduce you to the man who so helpfully volunteered for this exercise. This is Echizen Nanjiroh. Does he look familiar to you?"

The vaguest sense of déjà vu which had niggled her since the monk's arrival suddenly faded away under the slow chill now creeping up her legs. Sakuno suddenly remembered the small stack of old sports magazines from about twenty years ago that Grandma stored in her closet: on each clipping the picture of a long-haired, scruffy youth practically leaped off the page. When she was about ten she had asked who it was, the only answer Sakuno got was that he had been one of Grandma's finest students back in the day. Later they had reorganized the closet and the pictures got placed somewhere on the top shelves, soon overlooked. All she remembered was that the youth had been nicknamed the 'Samurai' on the courts—why that was, she didn't know. He didn't look the part to her, not like Sanada-san did.

Those magazine pictures suddenly coalesced in Sakuno's mind and she began to recall details. The chin, the stature, the nose, and also the eyes, though they were not that unforgettable golden color; everything screamed paternity. It was like a twist from that Dickens book she'd been forced to read last semester, but with an incredibly sick sense of humor. Of all the people she could have envisioned to be Ryoma's father, a perverted monk had been very low on the list.

"You, You're Ryoma-kun's father, sir?" She managed to not tremble or buckle her knees but Sakuno knew her voice was faint. Apparently Nanjiroh took her dawning horror for awe because he pointed happily towards his nose.

"That's me! You know my brat? Wait a minute. You were the one I was supposed to coach a few years back, weren't you? Yes, you were both in the same grade."

Once she had released him her grandmother turned around to speak nonchalantly to her. "So what do you think, Sakuno? You'll have to think twice about marrying Ryoma if this fellow's your father-in-law, eh? Not so great a catch now, is he?"

If only her knees would obey her commands to bend, Sakuno's intended response was to simply pretend to faint and hide under the counter of her booth until this nightmare fuel passed and she could breathe and love and live again. Since her body had decided to mutiny right then, she had to settle for giving them a helpless glance. "Well—Echizen-san _was_ very kind to look after things here when I needed to leave for a few minutes…and he complimented my food."

"Bah. I'd be a great in-law. If my dwarf has anything to commend him, it's that he has a most dutiful and solicitous father to whom he owes all his greatness," Nanjiroh sniffed. He gave his old teacher's granddaughter a happy wink because he knew it'd infuriate the old hag. It was fun to tease the blush-happy girl a little as well. He could always count on a Ryuuzaki woman to rise to the bait. "I'd be happy to arrange a matchmaking meeting between you two anytime."

"Never! I was never match-made, and no granddaughter of mine will be match-made--unless Sakuno herself insists on it for some insane reason," roared her Grandma.

Poor Sengoku was being jerked back and forth, still a prisoner in the unbreakable grip and almost forgotten in the midst of the arguments churning around him. Sakuno's own attention was seized by surprise at the fact that Nanjiroh, instead of cowering in utter fear as most mortals would when faced with her grandmother's roars, actually sported a huge leer on his face, eyes squinted in mockery at his elder. She wondered if fear hadn't in fact unhinged the man, for he courted destruction.

"I should've expected as much from a woman who's walked out on three _o-miai_," he snickered. Once again he faced Sakuno, reveling in the knowledge that only he and her Grandma seemed to possess. "Did you know, little miss, that your grandma here actually left three poor suckers in the lurch before she met your granddad? Three arranged meetings and she just up and left the saps at the table when she decided she didn't like 'em. It didn't help matters that your grandma kept reeling 'em in with her looks. She was a heartbreaker, she was!"

Growing up, Sakuno had heard a few stories about the youth of her Grandma, had seen the pictures of a Grandma, still rather handsome in her own way now at sixty, who had possessed a beauty that had almost been stunning. She had even heard that her grandmother had needed to resist quite a bit of attention back in the glory days. But to walk out on three betrothal meetings! No one ever mentioned such things to her before. Sakuno, staring at the older lady with new, more knowing eyes, did not know whether to consider it incredibly wild and reckless or very exciting and brave.

Her grandmother snorted at that, her eyes rolling up in calculation, her grip on the captives still holding firm. "Actually, it was only two _o-miai._ The last one was actually at the exchanging of gifts ceremony. I decided the boy wasn't what I needed after all. I can't say I liked doing it to him, though; he was a nice boy. It just didn't feel right."

"Grandma, you didn't!"

"It's true," said the two adults in tandem. Sumire gave her former student a quelling glare before shaking her head. "It wasn't tactful of me—I trampled those poor boy's egos—but I have always thought such matters should never be forced. It may be all well and good for other people, I suppose, but I never liked the practice. But don't think I got off scot-free. My parents punished me each and every time. Also, Sakuno, remember that this was in the older days; girls like me didn't have as many options back then and expectations were different."

"Yeah, women had to act like actual ladies back then. You should have seen your grandma coaching when I was younger, little miss. The horrible things she said and did to me, her best student ever—"

"Yelling at you all the time was the only way to get your attention," snapped back Sumire. "You were lucky you had such pure talent and technique. In all other respects you were the worst student ever!"

"One can't help it when one's blessed by the tennis gods—"

"If there _were _tennis gods, then they would have slapped the snot out of you!"

As the volleys of sniping continued zinging over her head, Sakuno sighed and simply watched the back and forth for a few seconds. Her grandma's familiarity and scolding did not seem nearly so out of place now, revelations considered, and it was more like watching Grandma taking one of the Regulars or another tennis club member to task for being silly. A much older, very scruffy tennis club member, she amended. The talk started to get a little more heated, her Grandma starting to wave her free arm around and to almost pace in place with agitation, when Sakuno got a good look at Sengoku again.

"Grandma! Let go of Sengoku-san! You're pinching him too hard!" It was quite so: his luck crashing down in flames, the poor boy had been jerked around this way and that, all by his cheek, his face skewed on one side and a tear dripping down from his slitted eye. When her grandmother let him go the marks of her fingers were still imprinted on his skin. Sakuno figured they would probably bruise.

"You crazy old lady, that really hurt! Why'd you have to do that? I never did anything—he's the pervert here! He was reading a lingerie mag, right in front of Sakuno-chan."

"You little hell monkey! Ratting on me? Is this how you support a fellow male? You're worse than my brat," Nanjiroh brandished his fist threateningly and took a step forward, the motion of which somehow managed to dislodge one of the other magazines, already rattled about from Sumire's earlier assault, tucked inside his robe. It fell on his foot and opened right to the centerfold for a brief second. With lightning reflexes that probably saved his life, Nanjiroh snatched it up before Sakuno could really get a good look at it or scream out and send her Grandma into another fit.

"You can't prove anything," he said to his teacher. "It's for my boy."

"Hasn't he tried to burn your little materials more than enough, Nanjiroh?" she asked, very deadpan. In return he shook his had with a vigorous denial. "The other one. He actually appreciates it," he replied. Sakuno had no idea and no desire to ask further questions about it. Her mind could only take in so many surprises.

Her Grandma's eye had begun to develop a rather ominous twitch; Sakuno fished around in desperation to find some new topic that would divert the two bickerers from incurring the full brunt of a terrible wrath.

"Oh—ah, um—Say, Echizen-san, Ryoma-kun returned just recently?" Sakuno said very tentatively, immediately regretting her words when that very unsettling smile warped Ryoma's father's lips again. Sakuno wanted to shrivel up in her skin. Innuendo about Ryoma-kun and her was bad enough from friends but coming from this person, Ryoma's own father, made her teeth curdle.

"Ah, so the little miss hasn't forgotten about my brat at all over the years! Frankly, sweetie...he's a mess. Perhaps he's a tiny bit less tennis crazy than he used to be, but it's still depressing to see how one-track he is. His tennis skills are great, but his social life just stinks. It's all, 'Play me, old man,' and 'I don't _want_ to watch that movie with you,'! I tried to give him some helpful reading to expand his mind, but the little ingrate just yelled at me and then he got some matches and…" A sharp noise from his former coach's throat brought him back on track. "That's why I had to bring him back here as soon as possible. At least he has actual friends in Japan, along with a sweet maiden who yearns for his smoldering gaze and his passionate—"

Her Grandma, merciful, slapped her hand against Nanjiroh's cheek; his lips fell silent at the withering, scalding glare she sent his way. "I think we've had enough of you for one day, Nanjiroh. Why don't I go see my _favorite_ student off so that he can get home before, oh, let's say, his _wife_ gets a call and finds out about how her _dear husband_ met his _untimely demise _when somehow he _stumbled _and _was put in the way of oncoming traffic_. I wouldn't want that, would you, Nanjiroh?"

Grumbles rumbled in Nanjiroh's throat and he fell into step beside Sumire, suddenly regressed into a very boyish sullenness; Sakuno would have wagered that he often wore the exact same look whenever a teacher called up on the carpet in his school days. Her grandmother darted one last suspicious glance over her shoulder at Sengoku and called out: "You can finish up with your friend there, but if he gives you any trouble then I trust you know what to do now, Sakuno."

"Yes, Grandma," she answered back dully. Her mind hazed, had a wilted feeling inside as she tried to digest two terrible truths. First: She had just helped throw beans at Ryoma-kun's own father's head. Secondly and even worse: Ryoma-kun's father, she had to concede, was a horrible monk, full of mischief, and something of a pervert. The more she thought on it, the more it stood to reason why Ryoma-kun always had acted a bit socially stunted—

"Don't take this the wrong way, but your Grandma's off her chain," groused her remaining companion; he was rubbing his bruised cheek with care, cradling it. "I'd rather take a punch in the face from Jin than go through that again. I see you weren't kidding when you said how scary she was."

"I'm sorry, Sengoku-san. Grandma's protective."

"Did you have to throw beans at me too? I thought we were becoming friends. Where's the love, Sakuno-chan?"

Sakuno ducked her head to mask her uncertainty as she groped for an answer. The best she could come up sounded very lame even to her own ears. "Grandma told me to; she was teaching me an important life skill."

"So if your Grandma told you to take a jog off a cliff, you'd do that too?"

"Would not! And—ah—um—you—should be more considerate of what topics you bring up when talking to someone you just met. Considering the reputation you have especially! And the worst thing you could have done was talk back to her, Sengoku-san. She always thinks people should be very polite in public settings and with older people. You have to be respectful around her."

Sengoku did not make the effort to make any rebuttal, settling instead for nursing his abused cheek. His eyes were cast down in gloom and he kept on skirmishing his fingers around the fading imprints in his skin. It was a few seconds before he spoke again.

"This really, really hurts. I'm going to need some ice-cream. I hope you have some."

"I do. Don't worry about paying for it," Sakuno sighed, turning to fill the order. "It's on the house. I suppose Grandma was a bit harsh on you."

"Lucky! I hope you have mochi-flavored ice cream today, but in a pinch pistachio nut or mint chocolate chip will do just nicely because--"

"They're green," she finished for him, her smile wider now. It was a comfort to know that some of her powers of observation hadn't completely failed her and that there would always be a few constants in this suddenly topsy-turvy world of hers.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Two figures had halted some distance away to regard the girl as she talked with her customer, placing a bowl of green-tinted ice cream under his beaming face.

"You raised a really sweet girl, old hag. I'm pretty surprised. Don't know how you pulled it off, but she's pretty adorable."

"Finally, we can agree on something today. All things considered, she has turned out very well. She's my little gem; she has some flaws but is still precious to the family."

"She's a cutie, that's for sure. I'm surprised I never really met her before, but we did fall out of touch there for a while, I guess."

"You have seen her. Just once." At the inquisitive bent of Nanjiroh's puzzled head Sumire let out a sigh that made her ribs ache some, the dull pressure carrying the weight of past memory. "At Fuyuki's wake, when she was four."

At that memory the boisterous air wafted away from his face; his middle age made itself better known as the fuzziness of an older man's recollection settled upon him. "Oh yes. She was the kid who hid underneath the table and wouldn't come out." Nanjiroh scratched at where the stubble on his chin made the skin itch, eyes keen on the distant youths. "She could use more of your spirit. I guess she missed out on your toughness when genes were handed out, old lady. Her looks sorta of remind me of you, but I'm not seeing any of your toughness there. Now that I think about it, Ryoma sometimes grumbled about a really clumsy girl that he knew—is that her?"

"Yes. Sakuno takes quite a bit after her mother—you know how delicate she was, Nanjiroh. And Fuyuki had a period when he was nothing but knees and elbows off the courts. She's growing out of it, thank heavens; I don't think I could have endured another year of her tripping over everything in sight and nearly killing herself half the time. When she's not self-conscious, she can be rather graceful. And," Sumire added, face wry, "I think she has a little more of me in her than you think."

"A late bloomer, eh? I wonder if she still plays tennis? If she has your and Fuyuki's genes, you'd think she'd have made herself known on a team by now."

"Apparently she did not get the full transfer of talent through my son," the old lady sighed. "But she actually does have potential to be a very decent player. What she lacks in raw skill, she definitely makes up with the Ryuuzaki determination and willingness to improve. Her old nervousness is going away--but her interests are also heading elsewhere. She seems to be heading on a course that involves cooking, and I think the least I can do is encourage her to follow what fits her best." She grinned slyly over at him. "And it seems cooking seems to be a better occupational fit than becoming a professional tennis player who had precious little choice about the matter."

"Don't you lecture to me, you ol' bat. I knew Ryoma had it in him the first time I offered him a racquet. I sensed it right from the start, I tell you—my senses don't lie about these things. _My _boy's no late bloomer; he knows what he wants and takes it! He's made for tennis like the monkey is made for the monkey-tree. He's got the determination and guts to give it everything he has. Not even girls interest him, so determined is he!" He paused and suddenly his raised arm dropped feebly. "I guess I encouraged him a tad too much. Ah well. At least I still have Ryoga, the _true _son of my heart."

Sumire held back another snort of faded disgust, well used to Nanjiroh's ways but still never approving. "It's all very well and good that Ryoma enjoys the path set for him. However, my granddaughter needs something less stringent. She likes to explore things much more than your rock-headed son, Nanjiroh. And I say more power to her for it. I'll feel sorry for Ryoma on the day when he's forced to retire by thirty-five because he's worn out his body so much he can't play professionally any longer."

A shark-toothed grin spread on Nanjiroh's face. "Yes! That's the plan. By then he'll be stinking rich and won't ever have to worry about finances, so he can retire in style and live like a king."

"Sounds boring to me. He won't be much good when he can't play tennis, will he, at the rate he's going? You think he'll see the light and turn towards collecting nudie magazines like you?"

"Ah, if only! Well, he'll have other interests by then. Maybe he'll cat-farm or something—and by the gods, if he won't have some kind of girlfriend by that time then I'll shoot myself. Nothing more satisfying than a good wife to provide stimulation." His grin turned very cheeky indeed. "And my offer of a matchmaking opportunity still stands…"

Sumire's slap whizzed through the air just by his ear in a warning shot. "Don't think I'll forget that, gossiping about me right in front of Sa-chan! Just go on home, Nanjiroh. Give Rinko my regards." With the sudden remembrance of another matter which needed resolution, Sumire's hand shot out to grab the back of Nanjiroh's robe as he turned to go with a wave. He fell back a pace with the force of the jerk and turned to scowl at her, loosening the fabric around his neck.

"Hey! What gives, you ol' hag?"

"I believe you owe me—or rather, my granddaughter—the price of a meal. She fed you, did she not? You won't be abusing anyone's charity today, my little swindler!"

"But I'm a _monk. _Begging is what I do," he protested, wriggling to wrest himself away from that inexorable grasp. Nanjiroh started to shuffle his arms down through his sleeves in an attempt to shuck off his robe and try to make a getaway in just his pants, but the grand old lady would have none of it.

"You're not _that _kind of monk. Go beg off on your fancy lawyer of a wife, but don't think you can get away with it here!"

"But I'm your former student, hag! Can't you let it go for old time's sake? Have some mercy in that dragon's heart of yours."

In response he received a cackle, a genuinecackle most favored by women of the witchy variety, and the fingers on his collar tightened. Sumire's eyes gleamed with gleeful vindication. "I hate freeloaders. Pay up."

"I have no money."

"You'll just have to work it off as a debt then, won't you? In fact, I know the perfect thing for you. I need someone to come to the school this weekend and start tending the tennis courts and clubhouse so they don't fall into disrepair over the summer. You know, replacing nets, checking equipment, cleaning out the lockers, throwing out old jockstraps. Takes you back, doesn't it?" Her eyes gleamed. "Or would you rather me talk to Rinko myself about what we should do with a lazy bum like you?"

Nanjiroh, eyes narrowed, shoved an unlit cigarette into his mouth with all the poise of a petulant child nursing a lollipop. The glare was defiant, reminding her very much of his son's, but his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You old hag. Just tell me when you need me to come."

"Splendid! I knew your sense of fairness would win out, Nanjiroh."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Sengoku set down his empty bowl with a satisfied clatter and licked the last vestiges of the mochi ice-cream from the corners of his mouth. "Ah, that was great. Mochi ice-cream's my favorite—and to think you were serving it today, Sakuno-chan. My mouth feels better already. And let's see: the wind's out from the northwest, my lucky direction; I escaped from your grandma alive, which I suppose is a miracle in of itself; and look! A ten-yen coin, right on the ground here!" He ducked briefly, coming up again with the shiny coin in hand. "Yes, yes, I can sense my luck is changing already. My luck _always _comes back," he grinned.

He moved away as if preparing to leave; Sakuno didn't blame him for not wanting to stick around now in case her grandmother came back and turned into a raging tigress again. She took a towel to start wiping at a few splatters of ice-cream that had fallen from the bowl, head bowed again over the work as she spoke.

"You seem to be able to get out of trouble almost as well as I'm able to get into it. I wish I could just rub your head like a good fortune statue and some of your luck would rub off on me." Before she could stop it, her lips began to tremble without her wishing them to do so. "I really could use some luck right now."

Sengoku regarded her quietly for a few moments. His hand then made a sudden, flourished slip into his shirtfront pocket and Sakuno marveled at the perfect, expertly pressed four-leaf clover that had graced the cloth within. With another flourish his fingers held the stem delicately in front of her nose.

"Here you go. Forget rubbing my head—I'll do you one better. This is the second luckiest of my lucky charms, only beat out by…you know." His eyes darted down and he nodded knowingly before plunging on. "From the looks of it and what you said, you definitely need it more than I do. I can find another one anyway. Go on; take it, Sakuno-chan. I insist. I can't speak for the rest of my school, but there's no reason why I can't give you this token of eternal friendliness." His eyes somehow grew large and syrupy as if glimpsing the pain of future rejection. "Of course, if you want no four leaf friendship clovers, I won't foist any upon you."

"No, I'll take it. Thank you very much, Sengoku-san. Come by anytime."

"I'll do that," he chirped. "Thanks for the ice cream, Sakuno-chan. And just remember, I'm rooting for you. I'm sure we'll meet again a few times—I like coming to this place in the summer." He wheeled around, slapped his chest in determination, and his eyes glinted with new resolve as he began to walk briskly away, throwing her one last friendly wink. "Now, back to my bird-watching. Where are my chickies at? Bring on the birdies!"

Jauntily he sauntered away, leaving Sakuno alone to blink at the empty air and wonder if perhaps something had been added to the mochi ice-cream that had the power to cripple peoples' ability to speak coherently. Or else chickies and birdies and bird-watching were some sort of Yamabuki lingo that she had not yet heard of.

Not one hundred meters away, she could see the splotchy figure of her erstwhile customer come to a halt on the sidewalk. She saw him lean against the wall and, just as he did so, a small group of three girls in short-shorts and tank tops passed him by, their fair skin infused with summer ruddiness. Even from such a distance Sakuno could see the gleaming grin and delighted eyes Sengoku's face sported as he turned his head slightly to keep them in his sights as he reveled in the beauty of female form.

"Bird watching," she groaned, placing her head on the counter to assuage the small headache building up there. No doubt he had 'bird-watched' her when she had gone out to lunch despite her lack of short-shorts and a visible belly button. "I'm such a dummy."

In lull following the upheaval, her thoughts were jumbled and vague. She didn't know what to say or think about what had happened, how to react to the characters she'd been introduced to so abruptly. In the end, all Sakuno could do was laugh at herself helplessly. How it had ended so well, she had no idea; she should just be happy about the fact.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

By the time Sumire had retraced her path to her granddaughter she found Sakuno already closing up the booth and hanging up the sign that declared how many minutes it would be until Taka-san took over the next shift. If Sumire wondered how her girl had managed to find a perfectly pressed clover to tuck in next to the barrette by her ear, she made no mention of it; it was enough to find her Sa-chan smiling once more, half-skipping in place as she closed the lock on the door. Her poor granddaughter had been a bit moody as of late.

From what she had gathered from the reluctant half-dodging answers over the weekend and what she had seen today when out and about—it did not escape her notice who was sponsoring the posh food-van across from her Sa-chan's booth—her granddaughter's inexplicable bad luck had somehow landed her in an awkward situation yet again. She suspected bullying of some type, but since Sakuno was so uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the situation and wasn't coming home each day with a black eye or skinned knees, it was hard to figure out exactly how to deal with this. A part of her wanted to force Sakuno to confess everything so that immediate action could be taken, yet her girl's recalcitrance over the weekend gave Sumire pause. If somehow Sakuno could handle this, perhaps it was time to let her resolve this her own way. It was an odd thought for her, but her granddaughter had been rather coddled over the years. As long as things didn't get out of hand, maybe it was time to step back a bit.

"I'm ready to go shopping, Grandma," called out the object of her thoughts. Sumire stopped her ponderings at once and smiled.

"Good. And also, Sa-chan, I think that we'll try to find you a nice little treat today. It's been another rough day for you, hasn't it?" said Sumire. She deposited a small wad of bills into Sakuno's palm, delighting in the smile that bloomed wider at the sudden windfall.

The two set out on their leisurely way, neither keen to be brisk under such heat. In the silence between them, her eyes wandering idly over the banners of shops and street signs passing by, Sakuno reflected on the day's occurrences. Dealing with Sengoku-san had not been so bad, but somehow meeting Ryoma-kun's father in such a fashion brought on thoughts she had not really entertained before. The more she tried to understand it, the more unbelievable it seemed that someone like him could be the father of someone like Ryoma-kun; yet there it was. Why was Echizen-san a monk when he was so _bad _at it? What had he been like when Ryoma-kun's age? Would Ryoma-kun go down the same path into darkness? It all made her wish that she had been closer to Ryoma before he had left; there was so much she could have tried to know better about him.

"What's on your mind, Sa-chan?"

"I was just thinking about all that's happened today, Grandma. And—right now I was thinking about Echizen-san. I can't believe that he is Ryoma-kun's father and the Samurai, Grandma, and that you taught him. He's so—so—" All she could do was wave her hands around in a vain attempt to find some way to aptly describe a member of Ryoma-kun's family without being insulting. Unable to do so, she caved. "He's a dirty old man, isn't he?"

Her Grandma tossed her now grey-streaked ponytail in laughing dismissal as if her bound hair would whisk away any and all her granddaughter's discomfort. When that ponytail tossed itself in such a manner Sakuno always felt more at ease. Nothing was more reassuring. If Grandma could toss her head like that and laugh, then truly there was nothing to fear.

"Don't let him bother you, Sa-chan. I'm afraid that Echizen Nanjiroh's a pervert, true, but he's a harmless one. He'd never cheat on his wife for the world. The most he does is ogle and collect dirty magazines. He's been like that ever since he was a teenager, really. But he's not a bad man; he was actually rather self-restrained today. He won't harass you."

She so wanted to believe it but after everything Sakuno felt she needed extra insurance. "You promise, Grandma."

"Such distrust! But since you really need it, here. I vow that if Echizen Nanjiroh or any other pervert even dares to bat an eyelid at you in any manner that seems fresh, I, Ryuuzaki Sumire, shall strike him down with anger and vengeance so great that his family would never find his remains. Better?" At her granddaughter's nod Coach Ryuuzaki smirked, arms folded. "Now aren't you glad that I came with you today?"

"You always come through for me, Grandma."

"But I can't be hanging around you every day throwing beans at anyone who makes you uncomfortable. Now that you're older, dear, you might need to be a little firmer with the opposite sex. Those two, considering their base natures, were almost well-behaved."

"I don't know, Grandma. That book fell out of Echizen's robe had a half-naked lady on it, after all. And Sengoku was staring at girls on the streets when he left. It makes me really uncomfortable still."

"Poor Sa-chan, to have to learn it the hard way! But I might as well tell you now, dear: you might as well try to get used to expecting it. Seeing things like that, I mean; you'll just have to learn to take them in stride or know when it's best to just start clobbering people." At her granddaughter's horrified expression she shook her head and fought the urge to snort in disbelief. "What's that look for, Sa-chan? I speak from experience: most men do have a bit of Nanjiroh in them. Often not to such an extent, of course, but it's perfectly normal and, dare I say, perhaps natural for boys and men to do what he does. You might have to dig deep if you want to find a Japanese male who hasn't taken at least a glimpse or two at a racy picture. And that's the most mildest and innocent situation I can possibly think of. You think today was bad? Those two were absolute gentlemen almost."

Sakuno actually stopped short, her mind groaning under the burden. This was too much to contemplate. To horrible to even think! But no, her Grandma never outright lied to her. "You mean, Grandma…that almost every male is like Echizen-san?"

"Like I said, quite a few of them aren't on his level. But deep down in the core, even if it's only a miniscule part, it's what most human beings are programmed to do. I see businessmen on the subway with magazines--" Her Grandma stopped alongside Sakuno and, upon looking at the girl's shaky state, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sa-chan, I said it not to let it get to you. Listen. We'll talk about it more later, when you're sixteen or so maybe. You'll understand better then. Don't rush it. "

The girl's small fists had twined about her braids and were pulling on them gently like they were a lifeline that would keep her connected to something familiar and non-crazy. When she had been thirteen her grandmother had given the standard talk about boys and girls and how to watch out for perverse behavior—longest two and a half hours of her life—but she knew that this hadn't been included in the talk.

"You mean there's more? And it gets _worse? _Today was bad enough as it was!"

Fueled by what her grandmother had said, in an instant Sakuno's worldview shattered and it appeared that every single male in this stupid, cracked world held some kind of seedy side roiling with suppress perversion. And they were everywhere! Sakuno began tugging harder at her hair and her eye twitched to think of her closest male relatives and friends doing what Echizen Nanjiroh did. Tezuka-buchou, always so kind to her—flipping through nudie magazines stashed in his textbook! Fuji-senpai taking pictures of girls in the bath! Inui-senpai getting said pictures from Fuji-senpai and stalking after ladies in the dark, his glasses afog with lust! (To tell the truth, Inui-senpai looked like that already when he was engaged in a particularly engrossing science experiment or mixing his juices.) And Oishi-senpai, deranged by thoughts of—

Now that was even a stretch for her. The horrid visions mercifully abated from her mind, dispelled by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Surely it could not be so bad that she couldn't even trust her own seniors, upstanding young men who only used their considerable stalking skills for worthy, non-perverted causes.

"Oh, please, Sa-chan. You're living in a country that sells used girls' panties in vending machines. What do you expect?"

"Wha-at?" Sakuno wailed.

Her grandmother's jaw dropped a little at the vehement response in genuine surprise. "You didn't know that? You've never seen one? Heavens, Sakuno!"

"I just don't _think_ about stuff like that, Grandma! I heard about them from Tomo and Ann-chan and even Horio-kun said he tried to get Kachiro-kun to go to one on a dare, but I—I—"

"You never had any curiosity at all, Sa-chan? You really are a late bloomer." Sumire shook her head. "We have a _lot _to cover."

There was nothing more Sakuno could do for it. She twisted her braids in her fists, closed her eyes, and started encircling her neck with a plait. This was the end. If this world was really as perverse as her grandmother claimed, then she had no other choice but to jump the ship right now. Maybe if she pulled hard enough, she could cut off the air flow so that when she woke up in the hospital she would have forgotten everything she had heard today, forget any memory of perverted monks. . .

The rapping of knuckles against her skull made Sakuno yelp and release her braid. She rubbed at the spot, giving her dearest grandmother a wounded look, which was ignored.

"Now that we're finished with our little moment here, Sakuno, I think that you can do away with the melodramatics. I wish it hadn't been under such circumstances—Nanjiroh certainly isn't the man I'd call to help demonstrate male nature--but you had to deal with things like this sooner or later. Suck it up! And breathe in while you're at it."

It took her almost a whole minute of trying to draw in a good lungful of air before she could speak again. She felt light in her head but heavy in all other respects. All she wanted to do now was go home and hide under the covers for a while after barricading her door. Males were too inscrutable a species for her now and she didn't know when and if they'd start trying to get at her. When she was twelve her fantasies about Ryoma-kun basically entailed them kissing each other on the cheek and eating bento under sakura trees, but now she knew what his father was capable of—it made her shudder.

"What a _stupid _world," Sakuno groaned.

"Yes, it's a very stupid world sometimes but that's the way it is and how it's going to be, I'm afraid. Just don't worry about it. It gets easier to cope with over time and with good guidance." Sumire slapped her chest and curled her arm in a strong-man pose, free hand underneath the triceps. "And that's my job. Your Grandma here is with you! _So--relax._"

Petulant, she shook her head and stared down at the ground passing underneath her feet. "I bet the senpai-tachi and Ryoma-kun are perverted too. The world made sense just an hour ago, Grandma."

"Sakuno! For the last time, it's _not _that bad and your senpai-tachi are _not _perverts. I bet Tezuka would be thrilled to hear you say such things about him—Ryoma would be thrilled as well."

"I know," said her granddaughter, shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Grandma. I don't know why I'm thinking like I am. It's all just so freakish to me."

"You just need time to adjust to this new information about the world. Don't rush it, Sa-chan. Sleep on it. Then tomorrow and for the rest of time I'll try and answer any questions that confuse you. I suppose it's partly my fault for not trying to explain some of these things sooner. You seemed happy enough without knowing." She placed an arm around Sakuno's frame. "Poor Sa-chan; you got a bit of a shock today, didn't you? Nothing like a couple of cheeky males to throw everything out of whack, eh?"

"As long as you're around, Grandma, I can get over almost anything. You're the toughest lady in the world." She hesitated to speak the next rather ugly thought that came to mind, but with the curiosity pricked it would not leave her until she got an answer. "Grandma—your parents, when you walked out on the ceremonies—did they--?"

Her Grandma did not even bat an eye, her voice untroubled. "My parents—yes, your great-grandparents—were products of their age. My father whipped me each time and my mother wouldn't give me anything to eat for two days afterwards. It was expected of them; I don't think they took any pleasure out of it. Not like it did them any good, though, since I kept on being stubborn." She wrapped an arm around Sakuno's slumping shoulders and gave a bracing grin. "But it was worth it. After three tries, I met your grandfather and the rest is history. No need to look so glum. It all turned out for the best. Not only did I get him, I got your father and then you out of the deal." A bright eye winked. "Most definitely worth it. And that's why I'll never match-make you against your will, ever. I promised that to myself long ago."

It was hard to imagine any relatives of her own family trying to hurt one another for any reason, but looking at her grandmother's calm face made it bearable. Sakuno reached down to grasp the tougher, larger hand and placed a kiss on the time-worn knuckles. If she could only be as half as brave and tough! This only made it more vital to prove her own worth to herself; if her Grandma could defy her own family, then certainly she could handle a few bullies and beat them at their game. Hope infused Sakuno's chest as she slipped an arm through her grandmother's so she could snuggle up a bit to her side as they walked.

"I really love you, Grandma. You're the best."

"I know, Sa-chan."

Sumire gazed down upon her granddaughter's head as Sakuno leaned against her shoulder and then cast her glance further down to rest her eyes upon the sweet face that had not smiled so much in the past few days. She could not help but wonder at her granddaughter's way of clinging so tenaciously to an already marred innocence, nor could she feel anything but a dull sadness to think of the day when finally that fresh outlook would gradually, bit by bit, be chipped away at by harsher realities.

But somehow she was certain that her girl's sweetness and good nature would endure; she knew her own genetic toughness would make sure of that. Whatever battles her granddaughter was going through at this point in time, the Ryuuzaki side would see Sakuno through. On this they could both rely.

---

_Yes, panty vending machines do exist in Japan. They're mostly in the seedier sides that no sane tourist ever goes, but they exist. Seeing how innocent Sakuno is, I think this new knowledge, along with realizing that Ryoma's father is a major perv, would make her FREAK OUT. Poor Sakuno! Don't worry, she'll recover from the trauma she has experienced this day. _

_Match-making isn't as common as it used to be in Japan now, but occasionally people still do it even today, if my mind serves. An _o-miai _is where the prospective bride and groom meet each other and are left alone just to get to know each other. If things go well, it progresses through a series of other ceremonies, including one where the couples' families exchange gifts with each other to seal the deal. I think Sumire wouldn't have been the kind of gal to stand for such things if she didn't like the guy she was set up with. Kick ass onwards, Coach Ryuuzaki, kick ass onwards._

_Next chapter: Ryoma makes his entrance, finally! I know many of you have been waiting for him. Will he forgive Sakuno for helping (literally) bean his dear ol' dad? The Fuji Bros. will also make an appearance. The fate of Mizuki shall be revealed!_

_Finally, I want to thank each and every reader for their support, favoriting this story, and for their reviews. I truly am grateful for everything you do. I never dreamed this goofy thing, which I started almost on a whim, would get so much attention! Well, I wanted to give Sakuno some props and I guess she's getting them! I especially thank those reviewers who point out silly mistakes I've made. After a while I'm going to go back and delete most of the former chapters' (long) AN's and try and do a bit of revising, catch those silly grammar mistakes I keep on missing. There will be some problems that I don't think I have the skills to fix, but I really hope this is just a fun read for everyone. _

_Thanks again for all the support. You're all aces! Keep up that Sakuno love!_


	6. Adventure 6: Meltdown of Minds

_AN: Ryoma appears! I really like Ryoma and he's got a good heart, but that boy is a walking cloud of snark and a black hole of social density. As usual, I try my best, but I can never guarantee that I will fit everyone's expectations of his character. I try to make everyone as IC as I can. Also, Ryoma is of course a fine-lookin' young man, but I have chosen to make his height quite average. Why? Because you can't have it all, Echizen baby! He can't be perfect in every physical way._

_As usual, Japanese is kept to the general minimum of titles and some family members (like Aniki). It keeps the flow of my idiom more consistent, in my opinion. _

_Finally, I must admit that at the beginning of this story, I have made a major cultural blunder of unimaginable imagination! The Japanese school year generally starts in APRIL and the summer break occurs in the school year proper. This means that Sakuno is actually in high school now, though she's not very far in. I will make my corrections in the first chapter and any other mentions later on. I AM A FOOL! _

_Typical disclaimer: PoT belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I make no profit from this, unless you count fun as a profit. Lawyers will receive a settlement, all right...FROM MY FISTS!_

**Sakuno Adventure #6: The Meltdown of Minds**

The Kawamura family restaurant had never been in the business of making desserts part of their menu specialty. Mr. Kawamura was a sushi chef through and through and whatever sweet things he and his wife did like to make were very traditional: sweet bean cakes and the like. Fried green-tea flavored ice cream had been as daring as they had cared to venture. Sakuno's apprenticeship helped change and expand the menu somewhat, adding more side dishes but she had planned new dessert menu almost entirely own her own efforts. She had been baking longer than she had been formally cooking and, because she did have a secret sweet tooth and simply liked the smell of sugary things warming up, had always enjoyed finding new dessert recipes to try out.

At first she had only taken to making extra desserts only for the Kawamura family, only after formal working hours ended. There really was nothing better than to sit down after a shift of working in the kitchen with a few chocolate truffles straight from the refrigerator or a slice of fresh cake. Mr. Kawamura had been so pleased with these after-hours treats that, with only a slight prod from his wife, who was generally more willing to try and mix up the menu a bit, he decided to test out some of the desserts on the customers. Soon people were ordering from the new dessert menu on a regular basis, some even coming in just for the sweets and not ordering sushi or even a bowl of rice. Mr. Kawamura had almost fainted when that had happened, but tradition had pity on his blood pressure; quality sushi and fine Japanese cuisine still were the main draws.

Mr. Kawamura had deemed himself too old and set in his ways to let a permanent revolution loose while he stayed in charge, but that didn't mean he could not project a few of his business design changes on his son. After about two months or so of working as an apprentice, Sakuno was charged with helping Taka-san learn how to work on perfecting his side dishes, bake, and make modern desserts when the restaurant was having down time or before opening hours; Sakuno had quickly decided to make the most of her time and make the desserts for the day during these training sessions. Sushi-making was indeed a most delicate culinary art, but Sakuno herself knew well of the intricacies of baking and that it took some time for some people to get a better feel for it—baking is generally a more precise endeavor than most other types of cooking, more dependent on exact measurements and the chemical interactions required to make the food especially good. Just a bit too much flour, if you open the oven just a little bit too early, and then you can kiss a delicate pastry good-bye. More conventional cooking generally gives a chef more leeway with ingredients, and it was in this type that Taka had much more experience. She didn't hope to make him a master baker, but if Taka-san's cakes were a bit lopsided at times, his cookies a tad too crisp, he still made good progress and the sweets were no less the sweeter for it. He was getting so good at it now that Sakuno was happy to note that 'emergency interventions,' such as having to reconstruct a new cake or throw out a pan of burnt brownies before they set off the fire alarm, were at an all time low.

On a lovely if hot early July evening, about an hour before the restaurant closed and her Grandma came to pick her up, Sakuno decided to give Taka-san a treat and teach him how to make Bananas Foster. She knew he would like learning about this one; Taka-san really got a kick out of flaming desserts.

"You see," she said as she pulled out some rum (taken from her Grandma's secret-no-longer stash) and banana liqueur, "the way that most people make it is that you set fire to the liquor in the ladle and then pour it down into the chafing dish where the bananas are. It looks really neat, Taka-san."

Taka's eyes were alight with the prospect. "It sounds neat already. How high can you hold the ladle up over the bowl?"

Coughing delicately as she started peeling the bananas, Sakuno quickly realized that some temptations were best not brought in so early in the learning process. "Well, I only hold it a little less than half a meter up or so, but I think we should start out setting fire to the liquor in the dish proper. It can be tricky and I only do it when Grandma is right there to watch me." She reached out to pat his hand before Taka deflated. "Don't worry, Taka-san, it still looks really neat. Now, you take one cup brown sugar and a half stick of butter—"

Once everything else was completed and ready, Taka had the small cup of rum ready to pour over the bananas, face breaking into a large grin of excitement. Sakuno nodded encouragingly at him as she subtly reach back for the kitchen's small fire extinguisher, keeping it hidden behind her.

"Can we say it together, Sakuno-chan? It's tradition."

"You know it, Taka-san. Ready?"

He nodded vigorously and, at the word, ignited the liquor into a beautiful burst of blue flames. At that moment, in perfect tandem, they raised their hands, turned around in a few quick circles like loons, and whooped. It was their tradition for any kind of food they had to set on fire and had the time to make a joke of it.

"_Burning_!"

Taka quickly grabbed the dish and kept it moving so the blue flames would continue for a few seconds longer while Sakuno tossed in a pinch of cinnamon, both of them crowing when it sparkled orange in the blue. The scent of toasted sugar wafted to their noses. Taka beamed with pride of over their creation and Sakuno clapped her hands.

"Good job, Taka-san! And we didn't even need the extinguisher this time."

Taka, still slightly in his old Burning Mode gave her a thumbs up and declared that, baby, he had such skills that they no longer needed any stinking extinguishers. Right after the words left his lips he shyly rubbed the back of his head.

"Uh, when I said 'baby,' I didn't mean it like 'baby' baby, you know, Sakuno-chan…"

"I know, Taka-san," she said to him as she pulled out plates and dished out some ice cream so they could ladle the Fosters on top of it. Taka pulled up a chair and sat beside her at the counter as they tested out half of their creation between them, mumbling, "It's just that I get so excited sometimes when I learn new things like this—"

Sakuno reassured him that she knew how he felt. Playing tennis in middle school had let him vent out his slightly more _exuberant_ side and he still had so much energy despite long hours of being an apprentice full-time that he had to let it out now and then. "I think it'd be hard to find ways to express yourself now that you can't play tennis much anymore, Taka-san. Do you miss it? Playing tennis on a regular basis, I mean?" she asked.

Taka slowly nursed his dessert while he pondered a response. "I suppose I do, a little. I mean, I still see the other guys all the time at school and when they come over here, but it was nice being on a team like that, you know, Sakuno-chan? And we don't have too many non-family workers in restaurant and we change helpers quite a bit, so I don't get that same feeling here so much. But it's not so bad now that we've got you. It's nice to have a buddy back here who's around my age."

"A burning buddy!" Sakuno chirped, waving her spoon. Taka laughed and raised his own in salute.

"Burning-banana buddies! Won't you be my BBB, Sakuno-chan?"

It was all too much and the two of them fell into a fit of snickers; perhaps it was the liqueur taking over their sense of dignity. But Sakuno always did like it when she and Taka-san had these one on one training sessions; they could act very freely around each other and joke easily. Taka was nothing but nice to her, even if on one occasion in his Burning Mode he had accidentally taken one of her pigtails in a fit of joy at seeing his soufflé hadn't fallen for the very first time on his thirtieth attempt and yanked with pure abandon. It was still remarkable to her how one minute she was just fine and the next she was on her knees with a splitting headache, Taka-san bowed prostrate in front of her, asking her if she was still alive. It had been a rather special event so she had let it go. She did tend to try and keep her braids hanging down her front in his presence, however, when she wasn't cooking.

They had just left their spoons in the sugary dregs on their plates when Mrs. Kawamura poked her head in through the main kitchen's doorway. She had a slight glow to her face that advertised her good mood. "Taka-chan, Sakuno-chan, we need some fried rice and soup for a take-out meal. Please get some ready." As Sakuno and Taka did as bidden, she sprang the surprise news. "Oh, and Taka-chan, the person who ordered that take-out is an old schoolmate of yours! He'd like to come back here to say hello while your father gets the rest of his order ready."

Taka, his face all a-quiz, nodded while he quickly fired up a fresh batch of rice; leaving Sakuno to ladle out some of their soup of the day. Her back was turned when their guest slid in through the door. Taka greeted him with all warmth and surprise.

"Echizen! Welcome back! I heard you'd come back to town to go to school with us next term."

The ladle slipped from her fingers to dive in the soup, a small slosh of it landing right on her nose. The sheer unexpectedness and mortification at her slip-up had stunned her into a frozen state.

"Hello, Kawamura-senpai." He briefly nodded in acknowledgement and then Sakuno felt his eyes alight on her. It always seemed that Ryoma-kun's eyes had a discomfiting x-ray effect on her; they were so sharp, so keen that she was half-convinced he could divine everything about her in a single glance, as if his tennis genius gave him some form of ESP that laid open all her faults to him.

She turned to greet him. It was like a picture from one her grandmother's sports magazines stepped right out of the pages. Ryoma-kun still wore that Fila cap of his, now a little more worse for wear, and his carriage exuded confidence as always. Just as she knew him before, his silent charisma good looks shone out in a way that the sports pictures she had seen could not capture, making almost every aspect of him seem well above average.

Almost, that was. Ryoma-kun's height hadn't seen fit to mark him out. He wasn't a true O-chibi any longer, true, and his aura did make him appear taller than he actually was, but, now in stark relief against Taka-san, the older still had him topped. Ryoma's head barely reached Taka's lower lip.

"Ryuuzaki?" The word tumbled slowly off his tongue as if it had rusted from disuse. The only real comfort Sakuno could take from it was that he hadn't forgotten her completely, as he was wont to do in his earlier days. That was an improvement. She bowed her head to him with a small smile, trying to calm down the shock that still flitted about in her stomach.

"Hello, Ryoma-kun! It's good to see you again after so long. Did you have fun in America?"

With a grunt and a nod he took another look at her before he darted his eyes elsewhere to survey the kitchen. He had not been back here in a very long time. "I needed some Japanese food after all that Western food. Ryuuzaki's hair is still too long, I see. And you have soup on your nose."

Sakuno, flushing, reached for a napkin to clean her face and bit the inside of her lip before she back to her work. Always, always he was harping on her hair. Or her hips. Or her knees. There was always something wrong with her to him, it seemed. Didn't he realize how ungentlemanly he acted sometimes? Sakuno knew that Ryoma, no matter how good of grades he got, how smart his English was, or fantastic his sports skills were, was actually incredibly dense when girls were concerned. Gravel had more perception about female behavior than he did. Perhaps it was because he was so busy in his other areas; Sakuno had come to a charitable excuse for him, that he did not have the time to hone his social skills. And, knowing what she did about his father—perhaps he did not have the best role models when it came to being considerate with female sensitivities. But he could be polite when he needed to be with adults, so why couldn't he spare a little more of it for her—and some of his other classmates as well? In middle school he had acted rather coolly around most of the other ichinen (who, to be perfectly fair, did have a good number of fangirls (Tomo-chan) and fanboys (Horio) who tended to make every Valentine's Day a living hell for him).

Well, she suddenly resolved over the increased flutteriness in her guts, recalling her grandmother's advice, she would have to remember that she did not exist on this earth just to please him. If he did not like her hair, which she thought beautiful in its own way, then he could go grump about it to someone else.

"Ryoma, be nice to Sakuno-chan," Kawamura spoke out, thick brows knitted slightly. "Some of us like—"

"It's all right, Taka-san. I'm sorry that you don't like my hair, Ryoma-kun; it's a shame. But since I like it, I see no reason to change it." Her voice wobbled at first, so she kept her eyes on the pot of soup until she finished filling the take-away bowl and put the lid on it. "Do you have the rice ready, Taka-san?"

He did, and the only thing left to do was to send them out with Ryoma and let him get the rest of the meal up in the front. As he waited for them Ryoma had started gazing around the kitchen; there was a stiffness about the air after she had responded. No one had ventured to speak for a space until Ryoma addressed her again.

"Is it true," he said, "that you and the coach threw soybeans at my old man? He couldn't shut up about it."

The nervous, apologetic sound that escaped from Sakuno's throat said it all. The smirk reappeared on Ryoma's face, that of the one of a cat who just lapped a saucer of milk. "Good."

"Well, your father is, I mean, was very, ah, eccentric, Ryoma-kun."

"A pervert, you mean, Ryuuzaki. You don't need to sugar-coat it to defend him. My old man's always been like that; I know how he is. I'm just sorry you ever had to meet him in the first place."

As Ryoma was about to leave the kitchen, a sudden blurred shadowed his feet's movement towards the door and a dark, owlish face peered up at her and Taka. At first Sakuno thought it was a trick of her imagination, but then Ryoma looked down at the presumed figment, eyes somehow slightly annoyed but warm as he regarded the cat at his heels.

"Karupin," he sighed, "I thought I told you to stay at home. Did you sneak after me all the way here, you crazy thing? Can't I go anywhere without you following me? I know you didn't like the long trip but you shouldn't be such a wimp that I can't leave you at home without me for a half hour."

The cat pointedly ignored the admonishments from its master as it padded about in front of Ryoma's feet, large button eyes peering about with proverbial curiosity of its species. It was a handsome thing, cream colored fur well groomed and a bit plump for its size, its bearing relaxed yet regal as any creature blessed with feline divinity. And its dark, seal-pointed face and paws were simply _ador_able to Sakuno's mind. She gasped in her delight and leaned down to get closer to its level, her attention on the boys in the kitchen suddenly evaporated at the advent of this incarnation of cute. Sakuno had always been a sucker for adorable animals and liked cats very much, especially fluffy ones like this. The anticipated squeals and squees commenced as she reached out her hand.

"Oh, Ryoma-kun, he's so adorable. So you're Karupin-I've heard about you! Welcome to our kitchen, Karupin-chan." She looked up, suddenly remembering her manners before she stretched out her hand further, her normal shyness in Ryoma's presence overridden for the moment. "Can I pet him, Ryoma-kun? And would it be all right if I gave him just a bit of fish—if he wants it?"

Ryoma's face appeared blanker than usual; he had probably never seen Karupin overshadowing him in matters of feminine attention before. He didn't seem to mind so much, Sakuno thought, considering how rather unwelcome his fans had been in middle school, but it was just something he was not used to. However, her musings on Ryoma-kun's reactions faded into oblivion once more when she stroked the soft fur on Karupin's head and then scratched the sides of his face, his whiskers twitching. The cat liked the stroking so much that he flopped right over in the middle of the floor, which got a chuckle out of Taka-san, and Sakuno cooed softly, face lit up almost to bursting. As Karupin stretched out to give her hand more access to his belly, Sakuno looked up once more. "What kind of cat is he, Ryoma-kun? He looks like a very fluffy Siamese."

"He's a seal-point Himalayan. He's got some Balinese in him too."

"Oh, he's magnificent," she cooed, her eyes filled with a touch of longing. "I wish I had a cat of my own. But Grandma's allergic, so I don't think I can ever have one until I live on my own."

She stood up to go to the cooler where the restaurant kept its stock of fresh fish, both whole and fillets, and she took out a small piece of yellowtail to put on a saucer for her new esteemed guest. Taka-san kept on grinning, amused at the cat's antics but with Ryoma's still rather stunned reaction even more so.

"What kind of cat would you like, Sakuno-chan?" he asked.

Sakuno set down the saucer at Karupin's feet as if he were some sacred temple cat and she his humble servant making an offering. "I don't really have a strong preference, Taka-san—but I always did like our Japanese bobtails. Especially the ones with the pom-pom fluff tails and the three-colored coats, just like the porcelain one we have in the front of the restaurant. I'd love to have one of those. But Karupin-chan here is so handsome; I might like a Himalayan as well!"

So entranced was Sakuno with Ryoma's cat that she even thought watching him eat his fish in the dainty way that cats do was as interesting as watching the first man walk on Mars or getting to see Atobe prance around in a tutu. When he finished his treat Karupin meowed softly and bumped his head against her hand, which prompted yet another coo from the heart-melted girl. She was now practically Karupin's slave and would have been so for life if he stayed around. Karupin placed one paw near her foot, eyes wide with anticipation; but Ryoma quickly quashed it.

"You've already had plenty of food today, Karupin. Don't give him any more, Ryuuzaki, or he'll need to be on a diet. He's spoiled enough as it is."

Sakuno agreed, if only to keep the peace. Then, unable to contain herself, she shot out her hand again and began stroking Karupin all over. The cat made a contented purr and flopped onto his side once on the kitchen floor, paws limp, belly exposed.

"My, you _are _a bit of a porker, aren't you Karupin-san? Yus you are! Yus! What a soft belly you have, so softy softy softy!"

When she finally regained her wits and dignity, Sakuno stood back up again and was greeted by the stares of the boys—they looked either amused or sickened, maybe both. Desperate to save what little face she had, Sakuno flailed for some pretence to get things moving again. Such a desired pretence lay on the counter near the ovens.

"Ah, Taka-san, I was going to make some little cake layers and cool them in the fridge overnight for tomorrow. They need to be baked first. Could you put them in for me, please?"

Taka-san found his job preempted by Ryoma's sudden movement towards the tins. "I'll do it," he said. To her absolute, deepest horror, he simply opened up one of the heated ovens and just shoved the tins in there like they were little pieces of _nothing _and not the products of her own care and measurements, cakey diamonds in the rough that needed just some polishing to become tender tonsil-tickling gems of delight, even if they lived for but a few minutes. And now, to see them so manhandled before they even had a chance-!

"No, no, _no_!" Without her making any conscious thought Sakuno dashed over and shot out her hand, hitting the flat of her palm against Ryoma's surprised noggin on each word. Karupin yowled in surprise and dashed behind the boy's legs, almost tripping him up. "Ryoma-kun, wait! Think about what you're doing. You just don't shove them in like that!"

All her shyness forgotten, she waved her hand in his face as she stepped in front of him to block his access to the oven. "Shoo, scoot, you just scoot over there!" She reached in with an oven mitten and brought out the little cakes; a sigh of relief squeaked out of her nose when she saw they were relatively unharmed. The tins were clutched to her chest like she had just saved a baby from drowning; she pinned Ryoma with a castigatory look. There used to be a time when she could ever have fathomed even considering correcting Ryoma, let alone do it, but yet again the peak of her emotions gave her courage. Judging from the way Ryoma and Taka-san were blinking, it was apparent that they did not comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy she had averted.

"Calm down, Ryuuzaki. I was only trying to help out a little," Ryoma grunted. She was spared the full brunt of the expression in his eyes because he was adjusting his cap as he normally did, but Sakuno felt his tinge of annoyance. If she could, she would have at least taken back smacking him on the head, even if the hits probably had hardly registered. Her arm strength wasn't the best.

The adrenaline surge was going quickly; with another long breath she turned to _very gently _put the cakes into the oven, collecting herself before she answered. "Yes, and thank you for it, Ryoma-kun. But with baking you have to be gentle and careful. And just doing that without asking was like—like—" One of the more embarrassing moments of her life came to her unexpected rescue. It wasn't a memory she liked, but it would serve its purpose for analogy. "Do you remember when you got hurt in that one match against Shinji-san and you yelled at me for trying to give you my handkerchief because I interrupted your match?"

"You weren't supposed to be there; you don't interrupt the middle of a match."

"It's the same principle, Ryoma-kun. In a kitchen, if you're not a cook or part of the staff then you shouldn't handle the food without permission. It's courtesy! And besides, you were bleeding like crazy out there. I was worried for you..." Her face felt warm and she cut herself off. Ryoma-kun didn't act very repentant, yet at least he seemed to understand where she was coming from.

Taka-san stepped in between them, waved his hands around in an appeal for calm and spoke to soothe the rattled atmosphere. "It's all right, Sakuno-chan, you got everything under control, right? You saved your cakes and Ryoma-kun has learned some kitchen etiquette. So everybody wins!"

Since both of them were satisfied by the intervention, Sakuno took the time to let her heart-rate calm down by leaning against a counter and taking a few breaths. Ryoma just smirked at her like he sometimes did in the old days.

"Ryuuzaki's still high-strung, I see." He spoke it in a tone that was too dry and familiar to be cutting; if Ryoma-kun were only a little more expressive in his range then he might as well be teasing her.

Ah yes, it really did bring back memories of the old days. Yet somehow, now she had gotten over the shock of seeing him and getting used to Ryoma's mannerisms once more, Sakuno could not restrain a little fond smile. It really was just his way, she supposed. She never knew how he did it, but that brusque-edge had always been a part of his confident charm. With her courage summoned up once more, Sakuno managed to try and tease him back.

"At least I've improved some, Ryoma-kun. Looks to me like you still act just the same as in middle school. I guess all those pushy people in the States are your crowd after all, huh?"

Just as Ryoma, who usually did not pause for words, seemed to be trying to move past being taken very slightly off his guard for some rejoinder, at that moment Mrs. Kawamura stuck her head in once more.

"Ryoma-chan, everything all right back here? The rest of your order is up. Oh, and Taka-san, your friend Fuji is here if you'd like to come out and visit. And—goodness, how did _that _get in here?" It was very doubtful that Ryoma's sneakers were on the business end of the woman's pointing finger; Karupin mewed. Mrs. Kawamura looked sterner than Sakuno had ever seen her. "Ryoma-chan, you are always welcome in our restaurant, but I'm afraid pets are strictly forbidden in the kitchen and dining areas. Health regulations, you know."

"The cat just followed him in, Mom," Taka-san said. "He didn't mean to bring it on purpose."

Ryoma seemed a bit more annoyed at having his pet referred to as 'that' and 'it' than being accused of violating the health code. Nevertheless, he swooped Karupin up with one graceful motion and went towards the back door. "I'll put him outside, Mrs. Kawamura; he'll wait for me there. I'm sorry."

Ryoma-kun appeared to have full confidence in his cat's ability to not do anything silly like play in traffic, but Sakuno did not like the thought of the beloved and beautiful floofy kitty going too far away and into danger. So she quickly found another bit of fish fillet, put it on a plate, and gave it to Ryoma at the door.

"Here. He can munch on this on the back steps for a while." Unable to resist, Sakuno leaned down to make eye contact with Karupin; one finger extended to brush against his ears and cheeks and scratch under his chin. "Goodbye, Karupin-chan-chan-chan! Sorry you can't come in here, but if I see you outside near the place anytime, you're always welcome to some fish! You're just too roly-poly and cute!"

"Great," the cat's master sighed, "you're encouraging him. Don't feed him too much, Ryuuzaki. The last thing I need is a lardball cat."

He had disappeared out the door when she felt Taka-san drawing her towards the other kitchen exit. "He'll come back to the front for his meal, Sakuno-chan. Let's go say hi to Fuji-ko, hunh? And let's bring him out some of the Bananas Foster we made; I think he'd like it."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Sakuno saw, upon their emergence into the dining area, that not one but two Fujis were at Kawamura Sushi for a rather late-evening meal. They sat together at the sushi bar, the elder placid while Yuuta talked with some agitation. She only picked up the last part of the conversation.

"—you really shouldn't take it out on him so much, Brother, it's really not fair. He's getting to be a real mess and Akazawa's not very happy about it."

There was a brief pause as Fuji considered, eyes cracked open just slightly. "Who's this you're talking about again?"

Yuuta opened his mouth and his eyebrows plunged in a mulish expression that was hardened with exasperation, so Sakuno took the advantage and walked up from the side to stand behind him. He still wore his hair short, perhaps a centimeter or so longer, and if she looked very carefully she could see the barest hint of his scalp beneath the brown. She had wondered why he liked it so short; she wagered he would have very thick hair if he grew it out.

"Yuuta-san, Fuji-sempai! Hello and good evening. Mrs. Kawamura said you were here. And just in time for dessert experiment night, too! I haven't seen you here in a while, Yuuta-kun. How was tennis camp?"

The brothers Fuji turned in their seats towards her, Fuji with his normal pleasant expression plastered on as always while Yuuta's more sour face cleared up upon the emergence of a small smile; he reached up to pat her hand as she clasped his shoulder in a quick greeting. "Ah ah, Sakuno-chan, remember I keep on telling you to call me Yuuta-kun." Kawamura was greeted as well and everyone was seated at the bar, Kawamura on Fuji's side and Sakuno next to Yuuta, who leaned back some in his chair.

"And tennis camp, it was all right. I still can't beat Akazawa-buchou but I'm getting better. But I tell you what, the food was horrible. It's nothing like what you guys make here or what I get at home. For such prestigious school, St. Rudolph's food just plain sucks. But Mizuki-san's always making us eat it—he never lets us skip meals. Says it's bad for training."

Fuji chuckled and reached over to give his younger brother a gentle noogie. "It's all true, and he's been making up for it like you wouldn't believe. Mother has been cooking him nothing but curry dishes and he's still not tired of it. And lately he even wanted to taste some of your food as well, Sakuno-chan, he missed it so much. Isn't that a compliment to your skills or what?"

"Brother, get your damn hand off my head before you lose it." Yuuta looked none too pleased at the open and slightly painful display of brotherly affection, his face set back into its nigh perpetual half-scowl. Sakuno sighed in sympathy for him and took a seat next to him at the low-lying table after she removed her shoes. Fuji's face mimicked a stricken expression.

"Oh Yuuta, still so mean to me, even after we've made so much progress. Did the therapy sessions teach you nothing?"

Sakuno once again sighed in sympathy as Yuuta flinched and tried not to smile a little at Fuji's clucking of his tongue and gentle shaking of his head as he continued on without mercy. While it was not common knowledge— the two of them had sworn not to tell anyone else outside of the hallowed confines of the restaurant and only Tezuka and Oishi were the others who knew the details—both Sakuno and Kawamura had learned that the Fujis occasionally went to 'bonding time' once every so often, which was their code word for going to the shrink as a collective family unit. The parents were normal enough, but they worried about their children ever since the two boys had their falling out; even though the brothers had virtually reconciled, they wanted to make sure things never got so tense in the family again. And the less said about how Yumiko turned out the way she did and what she needed to work on, the better.

"Brother," Yuuta groaned, "nothing could have been worse than our last session. It was the most embarrassing thing. I hated it!"

"I thought it was kind of fun and cute, myself," Fuji remarked airily. Sakuno blinked at them both, which prompted Yuuta giving Fuji a very dirty look, but the unfazed Fuji kept on that light smile of his. "It's all right, Yuuta. You should know Sakuno-chan would never judge us!"

Grumbling, Yuuta turned to her with his eyes sanded dull by a dry weariness. His voice was flat.

"They made us talk—with socks."

Sakuno did not think she had heard correctly, so she cocked her head and spoke softly in her confusion. "I'm sorry, Yuuta-kun, I didn't quite catch that. It sounded like you said you talked with socks."

Yuuta blanched as Fuji began ruffling around in his school bag, voice light and friendly as ever as he elucidated: "Sock puppets, really, if you want to be particular. I kept mine. Want to see it, Sakuno-chan? I'd show you the others, but Yuuta threw his away already and our sister's puppet would give you nightmares. Here." He hauled out a long white tennis sock and placed it upon his hand; it had blue googly eyes and brown string that poorly imitated Fuji's own hair and a nice little bowtie smile was drawn upon its face. It even had a little green cactus drawn on its side. Sakuno hadn't seen anything quite so disturbing in a while.

"Put that thing away before you give someone brain cancer, Aniki," Yuuta snapped.

"But I'm not your brother—I'm a talking sock!" The hell-puppet spoke in a high-pitched voice that did not suit Fuji at all and Sakuno shuddered at it. She was happy for Yuuta's fortifying clasp on her shoulder as he practically thundered out a demand for the atrocity to end.

"STOP IT. You're freaking her out, Aniki!"

Why did it always seem that she had to keep on finding ways to wriggle out of the uncomfortable subjects her friends and acquaintances so loved to bring up? Sakuno did not know how good a change it would be, but it would be something that could lead them away into more pleasant waters.

"Um—I heard some of what you said earlier, Yuuta-kun, and is something wrong with Mizuki-san?"

Resigned, Yuuta rested his cheek on his hand. "It's nothing big, Sakuno-chan. But I do have to say I'm really sorry that Mizuki-san got…involved in your troubles. Aniki told me about it. But listen, he's my senpai and all, but if Yanagisawa bothers you in any way, I'll make him stop. All right?"

She thanked him for his support but couldn't shake off the sense that Yuuta had hedged the question. Instead, it was better to go to the probable source. "Ah—Fuji-senpai…"

Taka-san was more direct, having more first-hand experience with the more subtle aspects of Fuji's nature. "What did you do to Mizuki, Fujiko?"

All innocence, Fuji swiveled his head between them with the most gracious smile. "What do you mean, Taka-san? I haven't done anything to him. Nothing at all."

"And that's the _point_, Aniki!" Yuuta could no longer contain himself. "He keeps on waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for you to do something horrible to him after what you said and did when you challenged him to a game last week, and he's cracking up because you're not delivering. He thinks you're going to do something hideous to him! Especially when you keep on somehow slipping notes to him in the mail like _this!" _He held up a little greeting card, the one you can buy in any cheap store, and it had the cutest little picture of a kitten on it and the words THINKING FONDLY OF YOU. Then Yuuta opened it up to the inside and there, in a neat, sweeping hand that was recognizably Fuji's, was a message:

I PUT AOZU IN YOUR SOY SAUCE. OR WAS IT YOUR MILK?

There was a smiley underneath it. A little taken aback, Sakuno once again looked at that serenely cheerful face. One eye cracked open and winked at her.

"Fuuuu-jiiii-seeenpaiii," Sakuno sighed. "You didn't really do that, did you?"

"Of course not, Sakuno-chan. And frankly, I'm a little hurt that you would think I could do something so cruel. Besides, honestly, how could I doctor someone from St. Rudolph's food like that? It wouldn't be possible and just a lot of trouble for me. Any person with _brains_ would know that."

"Mizuki-senpai does have brains, Aniki, but you've got him so worked up that he…doesn't understand obvious logic anymore. I've heard he paces the dorms at night mumbling to himself about how he's on to you, and that he won't let you trick him so easily. But he's so damn paranoid that he hardly eats, and if he does he makes all of us taste-test first!"

"Well, some people benefit from a diet."

"Aniki, he's slept like four hours in _three _days! Three! He's a nervous wreck!"

"He's probably studying for college entrance exams already. I hear that people with slightly defective brains get nervous way beforehand and need to study longer."

Yuuta grabbed at what hair he could in his fists, his pitch rising so that both Sakuno and Taka had to try and hush him to keep from disturbing what few other customers they had. Even Mr. Kawamura, who had finished fixing the boys' food and was passing it over the main counter, looked at them askance. Taka-san then remembered the treat they had brought out and put it in between the brothers, who expressed their immediate interest. The Fujis smiled their thanks as if nothing at all strange had happened and tucked in. Even as they ate the two mumbled between them, Yuuta accusing and Shuusuke fending him off. In the end Kawamura had to plead for miserable Mizuki's case as well.

"Come on, Fujiko, haven't you scared him enough? Ease up on him, all right? I'm sure that he's very, very, VERY sorry for getting St. Rudolph's involved in this…unpleasantness with Sakuno-chan."

As for Sakuno herself, she didn't know Mizuki that well, nor her grandma didn't have much of anything complimentary to say about his tennis ethics, but she did feel guilty for having, albeit indirectly, been the reason for him receiving the brunt of Fuji-senpai's displeasure. "Yes, that's enough, Fuji-senpai. He could get really sick if he keeps it up!"

"Why Sakuno-chan, I can't help it if some classmate of Yuuta's I don't even know—"

She scowled and folded her arms as she looked past Yuuta, directly her senpai. "No more spicy foods until you stop, Fuji-senpai. I mean it! And no dessert taste-testing for you, either!"

His eyes remained closed but Fuji's eyebrows descended in some concern; he gave a shrug and one nod of acquiescence before going back to his meal. Mr. Kawamura's head then appeared over the glass front of the bar. He slid a bento box towards her.

"Found this behind here, Sakuno-chan. I think it's the only bento you made today that didn't sell. Do you want it?"

"All right, Mr. Kawamura. Thanks. I'll see if Grandma would like it. If not, I'll know where my lunch is coming from tomorrow." She took the box and opened it up to see what kind it was; she generally made several different dishes to make a variety of bento. This one had curry rice, tonkatsu slices, and some dumplings. She noticed that Yuuta was eyeing the curry rice with some interest and she inched the box towards him. She also noted that even though they still had their plates half-full, the dessert was already all gone, the plate empty but for its two spoons.

"Would you like some, Yuuta-kun? Go ahead. There's plenty."

Yuuta had only got one mouthful of rice before the chair next to Sakuno found an occupant.

"I want some," the familiarly cool voice intoned. The four heads swiveled towards Ryoma, whose eyes had been riveted on the two meals set before the Fujis before they lifted up to meet the cluster of gazes aimed at him—if Fuji's closed eyes and nigh-perpetually smiling mouth counted as an actual gaze. He shifted his shoulders as if annoyed by their scrutiny.

" 'Want some?' " Sakuno echoed. Once more her wits were reduced to turtle speed under his attention. She upbraided herself for continuing to regress, but it was a rather unexpected turn of events. Ryoma had never actually refused any of the treats she'd once bestowed on him in her shy way, but he had never gone out of his way to demand a whole meal for himself, especially not in front of teammates.

When Ryoma, voice gruff and hap tipped down, repeated his request, Sakuno hastened to pass him the box. She tried not to let her wrists shake when putting it in front of him. No matter that he had never refused her cooking before; the whole incident from the 7th grade that also starred a bento box had resurfaced in her emotional memory with a vengeance. It made her terribly nervous and uptight. She did not know why she was so concerned, really; her progress in not letting him make her feel small had been rather good up to this moment.

Perhaps it was because that Sakuno finally was beginning to feel some measure of pride in her own accomplishments, because she had felt for some time now that she could do something not only passably but do it _well _that she was nervous. He often didn't intend to be hurtful, but Ryoma had a bad tendency to crush people's egos out of sheer force of habit-part of the reason why his games came off so well was because he usually engaged in aggressive psychological warfare against his opponents' confidence. Sometimes he forgot that he did not have to lay it on so much when giving his opinion on non-tennis related subjects.

As Ryoma took up his chopsticks the other four kept their attention on him. Sakuno was fighting not to pull at a braid and to search his face for every little twitch and tic, so she kept her eyes on the floor. Kawamura looked uncertain, hoping beyond hope that Ryoma would treat Sakuno-chan with more than his usual brusqueness and also flicking his eyes towards the Fujis. Yuuta's mouth was drawn in a suspicious line, and Fuji kept his pleasant demeanor except his eyes were cracked open wider than the norm. All four of them were halfway expecting those eight syllables that would perhaps spell out Sakuno's ego's doom and Ryoma's lack of well-being in the near future. It did not matter that Kawamura would protest if Ryoma called her work 'mada mada dane,' that Fuji would somehow manage to put wasabi in the tennis prince's food before the meal ended, that Yuuta had a slew of stinging rebukes in mind; if the boy was so lunkheaded as to say those wretched words to her on their first meeting after so long, Sakuno was sure she was going to haul off and slap him. Then she'd steal his hat.

"It's good," Ryoma said at the same time he plucked up another piece. Sakuno felt her hand, slightly lifted as if readying for the smack, relax and it was only then she felt a throb thread up her fingers, her knuckles still a bit white from the pressure of interlocking them so tight.

"Good?" she asked softly.

Ryoma lifted his head, eyes slightly tinged at the effort of having to repeat himself but mostly appearing contented. "Yes, good," he said. "What else should I say?"

A smile bloomed on Sakuno's face; she suddenly felt like ten feet tall and filled with pride in herself and with pleasure at the compliment. "Nothing else, Ryoma-kun. Good is good."

"Like he knows how to say anything else if it's not you-know-what," Yuuta grumbled. "Your food is always tasty, Sakuno-chan." Fuji patted his brother's shoulder in a conciliatory manner.

"Now, now, Yuuta, we should be proud of Echizen here. He has obviously made an effort to improve his manners when it comes to girls and it shows. Congratulations, Echizen; perhaps soon you, too, will be invited to the experimental test-tasting nights we share with Sakuno-chan and Taka-san here. We had some delicious Bananas Foster given to us earlier. Did you get to have some?"

"No."

"Ah, what a shame. And—" Fuji looked at the plate, the remains of the dessert only a small splatters of ice cream and cinnamon sprinkles sadly drowned in a puddle of rum, "it appears we ate it all already. Sorry about that. But maybe you could have gotten here sooner."

"I'm sure," Ryoma spoke through slightly clenched teeth. "And it's not my fault that Karupin kept on trying to come back inside. I had a hard time getting him to stay and eat his fish."

Yuuta, suddenly seemingly possessed by the tinge of sadism the Fuji siblings all shared, reclined in his chair and smiled a full smile at Sakuno before turning to the younger boy beside him.

"Really a shame that you've been away and never got invited to one of the experimental meal days. We have them every week. And Sakuno-chan always makes such good things for us, always tries out something new. She treats us so well, eh, Aniki?"

Fuji chuckled once more. "Saa, that's true. Such love, such love is in the food. I don't know, Yuuta, if I would like us to give any of this love away. Besides, Echizen always gets to eat such exotic foods all the time, what with getting that Western cuisine. He gets enough good things as it is, I think. We wouldn't want my kohai to get spoiled."

"Whatever, Fuji-senpai. You know, I've signed up to play on the Seishun High School tennis team with everyone this year."

Fuji nodded. "We all expected you to."

"Maybe sometime soon you could help me get back into practice here before the season really starts going. It's been a long time since I played a high-schooler," Ryoma said coolly, smile equally cool.

"Sounds like you don't need the help, Echizen. But I'd be happy to oblige a kohai," responded Fuji. Sakuno fidgeted some. Boys! She didn't know why they had to get so worked up about sports; none of the girls on the tennis team she used to be on acted quite like that. Maybe it was some male thing she wasn't ever supposed to know. She yawned.

"Ah, Sakuno-chan, it's been a few hours for you, hasn't it? I think it's about time for your grandmother to pick you up, eh? Thanks for helping with the later hours again. Why don't you go back and get your things?"

He was right, and she remembered she had the cakes for tomorrow to check on and take out as well before she could leave. Well, let the boys be boys all they wanted to, then. Sakuno rose and gave them all a bow and bid them goodnight. Three voiced pleasantries came as well as one grunt from Ryoma.

"Don't worry about it, Sakuno-chan, things'll get sorted out eventually," Yuuta said to her. Sakuno was a bit too tired to worry about her impending problems at the moment, but it was something of a comfort. And to cap it all off, as she moved away Ryoma decided to one-up his earlier grunt and said to her as she left, "See you later, Ryuuzaki."

Sakuno couldn't exactly explain why, but that was a very, very nice way to cap off the evening.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

By the next morning, however, the morale boost from the previous evening had run its course. From the minute she woke up, remembered today was her shift day at the booth, and realized that she was now starting to begin to dread reporting to work there, Sakuno's courage desperately required sustenance. She did not habitually call Tomo-chan in the mid-morning, since Tomo tended to sleep late in the summer, but the gloom that settled over her called for redress. A cranky Tomo-chan was better than none at all. And indeed, at the very first Tomo sounded groggy, muffled, and spoke a bit more tersely than was her wont. Sakuno didn't know how wise this exactly would be, but to try and mollify Tomo she quickly mentioned the events at the restaurant the previous evening.

"_You saw Ryoma-sama yesterday? He came to see you? EEEEEE!"_

Ah yes, all indications of sleepiness and sourness flew right out the window. Did she know her Tomo-chan or what?

Tomo then began the expected barrage of questions, but in amazing feat of self-restraint she caught herself only after two rather invasive questions (Did Ryoma-sama try to ask her out on a date and did he try to kiss her?): "Oh, Saku-chan, I'm being a dummy. Phones won't do this justice! I'm coming over there right away!"

"Tomo-chan, I have to go to work in an hour."

"No problem. I'll just swing by your house and I'll go with you! And you have to promise to tell me everything. Everything. And hey, this'll be the perfect time for me to meet with those brats who've been giving you trouble. I'll give 'em what for!"

Nor did Sakuno doubt that. Not only had Tomo-chan kept on cultivating her voice's volume capacity to the maximum, fate had decreed it so that Tomo-chan found another hidden talent of hers in the past few years. It turned out that Tomo, thanks to a life surrounded by little brothers who used to repeat every single bad word and slur that they ever heard and Tomo's own passion for American TV shows, could blister the bark off a tree if she so desired-with the proper motivation.

To her credit, Tomo was normally polite enough not to do it often, and never in front of older adults. But Sakuno vividly remembered one day about a year ago, when she and Tomo and Ann-chan were passing by the Seigaku girls' tennis courts and Tomo had seen a girl with whom she was having a typical middle-school girl feud. Tomo-chan had pressed up against the chain link and bellowed out some lines that had the victim missing every easy lob served at her. In two minutes they all, both the innocent and the guilty, got chased away. Tomoka was banned from ever getting near the courts. But evidently someone else on the boys' baseball team was impressed by the rumors, because not a week later Sakuno caught Tomo-chan standing on the sidelines in a practice game between Seigaku and some other school, chewing menacingly on a toothpick and yelling whenever the opposing team was at bat. The Seigaku pitcher had a near-perfect game that day. It was said she had made the other team's first baseman cry.

"Tomo-chan, there's really—"

"Like heck I'm going to let Ann-chan or anyone else hear about this first! I'll be right oveeeeeer," Tomo-chan sang out. Next thing, the line was dead. Sakuno just had to resign herself to a future grilling and Tomo's enthusiasm for all things Ryoma-sama. Soon enough, Tomo, who now tended to wear her hair in one ponytail pulled to the side (it was chic, she said) appeared at the door and immediately started inquiring about the current state of Ryoma-sama's hotness. At least it gave Sakuno something to help preoccupy her brain on the trip there; it made it feel less like she was traipsing off to the gallows.

Indeed, the closer they got, the more thankful she became that her best friend had insisted on accompanying her, for Sakuno had a hostile welcome waiting for her.

They had barely arrived when a girl she recognized from the Hyotei food establishment suddenly stormed up before the front of the booth looking like she was fit to have puppies. She was a rather tall, statuesque girl, no doubt a second or third year, and she jabbed a perfectly manicured nail at the much more petite Sakuno.

"What's the meaning of all this, trying to sabotage our good relations with Yamabuki? If you're so keen to break off the agreement that we have and let Hyotei smash you, little girl, you didn't have to do it in such an underhanded way. Bribing Sengoku with ice-cream, bringing in your hag of a grandmother to bully him! Oh, you think you're very clever, you Seigaku commoner, but we're from Hyotei and we're smarter than that. We are on to you."

Tomoka stepped in between them, leveling a perfectly deadly look at the Hyotei girl, the same kind of look you see in a mother grizzly when someone steps between her and her cub. She gave her sideways ponytail a scornful flip.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't a member of Atobe's army of darkness. Leave us alone, demon-spawn. Sakuno-chan has no time for the likes of you."

"You're very rude, and you clearly betray your poor upbringing. If we of Hyotei weren't of such genteel breeding, we'd smash you flat as well, in just one second."

"You'd smash _me_? No way! It is I who'd smash _you_!" Tomoka barked. She raised her foot up and balanced on one leg in a stance eerily reminiscent of a karate master about to unleash a world of hurt. "I'd squish you like a bug—just like so!" A quick glance down indicated that in the area underneath Tomoka's feet there were, in fact, no bugs to be found. Not a single ant. Still maintaining her warlike position, Tomo began waving her finger in the air. "Well, if there _were _a bug here, he'd sure as hell be squished, just like you'd be! So just think about that!"

"You're pathetic," the girl laughed, and that only whipped up Tomo-chan's ire further. She pointed at the Hyoutei girl's designer culottes.

"If you're so well-bred, girl, then why are you wearing shorts that make your ass stick out like that? Does Atobe like 'em all bloated like that? I've seen ships with smaller rudders than yours, _asstractor._"

That was only a taste of the vitriol Tomoka could spit out in the first inning of a typical baseball game, but it was enough to make the other girl sputter and stutter for a response; the bluntness of the attack had caught her off guard. Sakuno had a dread feeling that this had been inevitable, yet she didn't want Tomo-chan to make such a spectacle of them both, even if the public in Tokyo never was surprised by anything. This could go into very dangerous territory very quickly, so she began to tug on Tomo's sleeve to mollify her, but in vain. Tomoka's verbal momentum carried her onwards.

"And you can go and tell your precious Atobe-sama that he is, as they in the ancient Greek, a _dorkos malorkos_," Tomoka's hiss seethed with malicious glee as she wiggled her fingers in gesture that almost seemed as if she was choking the empty air. The other Hyotei members squealed in outrage and the speaker advanced, her fingers also curled into claws.

"Tomo-chan! Don't catfight here!" Sakuno yelled as loud as she could to be heard over the chorus of shouting erupting from the Hyotei pack and even from a few other onlookers and passers-by (they demanded a catfight), but her voice was disregarded. Tomoka had that dangerous glint in her eyes again. There was no way this could end well. A pocket of pressure that had gradually built up near one temple thrummed uncomfortably.

"How dare you insult our glorious Atobe-sama? He has more greatness in his little finger than you could ever attempt to get in your pathetic little life." The girls were circling in the manner of wary beasts—or maybe like a pair of sumo wrestlers. Tomoka was grinning now with the confidence of one who had an unpleasant secret to tell.

"Save it, fatass. Do your worst. But I have to tell you—I've got two younger brothers at home. Come any closer and these little fists of mine'll make your face as cheese: melty, melty!" Tomo brandished a fist to bring home the threat; her toes flexed and she made a subtle bounce on the balls of her feet, very much akin to a boxer warming up. Sakuno tried once again to get her friend to dismiss her aggressive nature—a girls' fight right in the center of the square might attract a lot of publicity, especially from the male population, but were slightly increased sales really worth the destruction of Kawamura Sushi's reputation?

In all the excitement none of the group had noticed a customer's approach until he stopped right in front of the counter, a little off from the center so Sakuno didn't have an immediate direct view of him. Ryoma leaned an elbow on the counter, tugged his hat, and cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Tuna onigiri and a yakitori skewer, please, Ryuuzaki."

At the sound of that heavenly voice, all her rising murderousness and sharp tongue falling away, Tomo let out an almost unholy shriek of delight and threw herself into Ryoma's personal bubble; he barely managed to escape a full-on embrace and she only got a hold of his left arm instead. Still, Tomo squeezed it for all she was worth in her ecstasy. "Oh, Ryoma-sama! You're finally here again! And you're even more handsome than I dreamed! And you'll play for our high school again, won't you, and Sakuno-chan and I will get to be your cheerleaders again! Isn't that _great?_"

"Whatever. Ryuuzaki, my order?"

The curt reminder snapped her back into the present reality; Sakuno quickly set out to prepare his order, a very easy one to make since all she really needed to do was grill the meat that had been marinating overnight. However, the Hyotei group did not like being so easily ignored and they all regarded Ryoma with some suspicion, which he didn't deign to return. He just gave them one cool look and turned back to trying to pry Tomo's fingers off his arm. It was the prized tool of his trade, after all.

"Is he from Seishun?"

"He doesn't seem familiar."

"But look, that crazy girl looks like she knows him."

"Who is this, little girl? Your boyfriend?" someone demanded of Sakuno as she passed her customer his onigiri.

"YES," immediately said Tomoka.

Almost as quickly, as if it were an old habit, both Sakuno and Ryoma put in their denials. Personally, Sakuno really hated that question because it had been bandied around so often in her middle school days that it almost immediately trigged a Pavlovian reaction of extreme discomfort in her. Could people think of nothing else? In revenge for that, she gave Tomo-chan a really big pinch just above her elbow. It was to no avail; Tomo-chan was now ranting at the Hyotei people with one passionate finger waving at them, not noticing in her excitement that Ryoma had gotten two fingers undone from his sleeve. Almost halfway there.

"What do you mean, 'Is he from Seigaku'? Don't you blockheads know who this is? This is the Ruler of the Racquets, King of the Clay, Admiral of the Ace Serves—Echizen Ryoma, the Prince of Tennis Himself!" The words tumbled out like she was swearing a pledge of allegiance to Japan itself; if Ryoma was a country unto himself, Tomo was his most ardent patriot.

"Nonsense," a boy bellowed. "There is no such thing. The only Prince there is is that of Hyotei, Atobe Keigo!"

Ryoma snorted, bit rather savagely into his onigiri. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm a customer here, and you're disturbing me. I'll report you as a public nuisance if you don't let me transact business in peace. Go away."

At his words the others retreated with grudging footsteps under his glare, which caused Tomo to giggle in utter glee and put all her fingers back on his arm, erasing all of Ryoma's progress. She praised him to the skies and Sakuno had to blush for them both as she cooked the chicken skewers.

"Just what I expected from Monkey King's groupies…Hey, Ryuuzaki, do you sell Ponta here? Maybe a crowbar, too?"

The booth did not normally stock that particular obsession of Ryoma's, but Tomo couldn't go off running fast enough, shouting that she'd go get him a can from a vending machine. Sakuno figured that if Tomo-chan were in a cartoon, she'd be leaving a Tomo-shaped cloud of dust behind her. The skewers had gotten striped on one side already so she turned them over.

"You still haven't lost your knack for getting into trouble, Ryuuzaki. I thought by now you'd figure out how to deal with people like that. Always letting people bully you."

Sakuno frowned down at the chicken meat, galled all the more by his words because she guessed that their essence was true enough. But, still! It wasn't as if she had experience taking on groups of people, unlike some certain parties. It was easy enough for him to say. What could she do, challenge all of the members of the Hyotei Atobe Fan-club who disliked her to a tennis match? "I'm trying to think of something, Ryoma-kun. At least I'm not just retreating back to working only at the Kawamura's restaurant. I won't give them that satisfaction. But if I don't leave and they won't, it's hard to come up with something."

At that moment Tomo returned loaded down with several Pontas, of which Ryoma took one can. Tomo ordered Sakuno to stock the cooler with the rest and not to give the cans to anyone else but Ryoma-sama. Sakuno saw little point in arguing, so she finished up grilling the yakitori for Ryoma and put the drinks away as he ate the second part of his meal.

"What do you think, Ryoma-sama? Do you like the meal Sakuno-chan made with all of her love for you?" Tomo was such sweetness and brightness now, transfigured by the sheer glory of standing within Ryoma's presence. The glorious figure himself only rolled his eyes.

"Mada mada da ne."

At those dreaded words Sakuno's fists balled up tight in an effort not to throw something at somebody, anybody, and Tomo-chan launched into a remonstration of how good Sakuno's cooking really was and that Ryoma-sama really should stop playing hard to get and express his true gratitude for once. Ryoma swallowed his yakitori with visible agitation, his thumb pointed along some invisible trajectory. "Not her, stupid, I'm talking to them. Almost three years and you guys still do the same things. Don't you ever learn?"

In front of the rows of food booths and other little shops in the area was a large, two-sided sign made of sturdy cardboard that advertised the names of the business and their trades, and which was propped up by its own force because the two sides sloped at an angle towards each other, making a v-shaped wedge at the top. A rustling came from behind it.

"I told you we should have tried to use the greenery! Damnit, Mamushi, your bandanas ruin everything."

Sakuno noticed the very tip of a green bandana just barely peeking out from the opposite side. "I don't care. This is a waste of my time."

"Well, no point in keeping it up. Let's go say hi!"

Eiji, Momo, and Kaidoh emerged from behind the sign, none of them expressing any kind of remorse or bashfulness whatsoever. The former two just waved cheerfully at them all while Kaidoh only pulled his eyebrows and lips down a little more to show his supreme annoyance.

Ryoma shut his eyes tightly. "Senpai, why are you all here? No, answer me this: _why_ do you keep on doing this to me?"

"Because it's fun, we're bored, and we wanna check on your love life, tiger," Momo explained with great patience. "I mean, God knows how badly you'd botch things up if we weren't around to help you. And so we called up your house and your dad was kind enough to tell us around where you were going out. He's a great guy, by the way, knows a lot about the ladies. And then Eiji and I called up Inui and he did some calculations for us…and here we are."

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. "And you, Kaidoh-senpai?"

"Senpai here forced me to come. He kept on calling and calling my house until my parents made me go meet him and the moron," came the sullen reply. Ryoma nodded in a little sympathy and the girls greeted the newcomers.

"Well, since you're all here, senpai, why don't you buy something from Sakuno-chan, support the business?" offered Tomo.

Kaidoh along with Momo eventually caved in and bought one cheaper snack each; for his own sorrowful part, Eiji, who had no money, stood for a minute or so giving puppy eyes, their message implicit. He didn't get a single yen. He then tried another tack. He shuffled up to Sakuno, the others distracted by their snacking (Tomo stole a bit off of Kaidoh's frozen banana) and talking. "Ne, Saku-chan, could you come a little closer? I have something to ask you."

Ingenuous as always when it came to Eiji, she did as requested, never suspecting that her innocent-seeming senpai was not always above suspicion. Sakuno cocked her head—now aching a little—to get him to continue, when she found shoulders enveloped in a crushing glomp, her body almost half-way pulled out of the booth proper. Her toes frantically sought the ground for some purchase only to find none. There was no escape.

"Nyah, Ryuuzaki-chan, nyah, do you have a treat for your beloved Eiji-sempai? Do you? Do you?"

Sakuno could feel her spine creak under Kikumaru's assault and only made a feeble protestation: "Eiji-senpai, you know the policy on freeloading here."

"But it's not freeloading! I'll do something in return. I know! I'll sing for you, nyaah. Ahem, 'hem. If you give me a treatmake sure that it's sweeeeeeet—" A cookie wedged itself in his mouth before he could finish the verse and, with a pleased chirp in his throat, Eiji relinquished his half-perch on her. He thanked her through a mouthful of crumbs while Sakuno rubbed her back and shoulders.

Momo looked thoughtful. "You know, she always gives you a sweet whenever you come by, Eiji-senpai. Maybe I should try being cute with her too—" He made a step towards her that elicited a protesting squeak from Sakuno. Momo was quite a bit heavier looking than Eiji; she feared very much for her health in that instant.

"Like she could even hold up your fat hamburger-eating ass, Momo-senpai," Ryoma said.

"And there's no way you could ever be as charming as me. Besides, it's me that Sakuno-chan likes best, isn't that right, Saku-chan? Nyah?" Eiji added. Then the three got into a discourse on whether or not Momoshiro was a true fatass or not and Sakuno's spine felt more secure. But just in case, she decided to retreat further back into the booth.

"You're going to pay her back for that soon, Eiji."

The addressed almost choked on his last mouthful of pastry, his fingers clutching a moment at his throat in a moment of swallowing that proved quite the chore. All eyes turned towards Tezuka, who had Inui trailing close behind him.

Tezuka's voice continued in a monotone rumble, his face cloudy to match. "I should have known you'd try something so juvenile. I'm going to have to think of something extra special for you two to do next practice."

"Don't say I didn't predict this, Kunimitsu," said Inui. Both Eiji and Momo scooted back out of instinct, their tongues tripping over their teeth; Kaidoh, strangely enough, acted relieved.

"Buchou, how did you find us? We weren't doing anything except checking up on Echizen. That's what good senpai do, right? I mean, he'll be our teammate again soon." Momoshiro tried to stay his ground but his wobbly knees didn't lend him much heroism. In mute response, Tezuka held up his cell-phone, upon which's screen a desperate-looking text message crying out for help and that he was being coerced against his wishes could be read by all. Eiji pulled a very, very sour face.

"Kaidoh, you squealer! You sang like a canary! How could you!"

Kaidoh folded his arms in defense; his hissed response produced a small, satisfied smirk on Ryoma's lips: "It's what you two deserve for pulling me away from my training. I should be jogging now."

Any other harsh words were struck down preemptively by a verbal explosion of a different kind. The unexpected arrival of her senpai had made Sakuno forget all of Hyotei's warnings against letting her 'goons' come totally flew out of Sakuno's braided head until the small pack of them came over from their business van, this time with perhaps a few more schoolmates (some of the most fanatical members of Atobe's fan club, unbeknownst to Seigaku), and they swooped down in an agitated cluster in front of the booth. They immediately charged Sakuno with untrustworthiness, perfidy, treachery, and unconscionable cowardice in hiding behind the brute force of four and a half boys—Eiji wasn't intimidating enough to make a full count—and one foul-mouthed banshee. Sakuno was only thankful the group didn't get too close; perhaps her companions kept them somewhat at bay. But their accusations, especially their voices, struck her very hard. Then one of them, carried on by passion, broke through and stood right before her and spoke loudly right into her face, and then he jabbed a finger right against her sternum, two of the things Sakuno hated the most of all.

"Don't think you'll get away with this, little girl. You've asked for it! We won't let Hyotei and Atobe-sama's honor go unavenged. I'm sure someone from St. Rudolph would love to see you, _da ne_. And if you don't watch out and give in soon, you'll find there can be other things that can be chopped besides food."

He reached out for her left braid to dangle it lightly between his fingers; it didn't hurt, but Sakuno's stomach lurched and what resolve she had mustered started to waver. Veins in head scrambled the blood in them. She hated being almost yelled at right in her face. She was scared of Yanagisawa. She doubted Yuuta's ability to do much of anything about his senpai. And most of all, she was terrified for her hair. "L-Leave me alone."

A hand clamped down hard to swipe the intruder away with one skilled motion, using the momentum to send the Hyotei boy back to his people. "That is _quite enough_," Tezuka gritted out the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. "Go back to your place, Hyotei. She is our kohai and schoolmate. If you all insist on ganging up to torment one girl who's done you no harm except violate one of your stupid, petty social rules, then we will do what it takes to assist her."

Kaidoh's scowl was evident to Sakuno despite that his back was to her as he stood next to his captain. "And you don't touch a girl without her permission, idiot."

"That's right! Only Ryoma-sama can do that!"

"You're just lucky that Sakuno-chan's not my older sister. She slapped me whenever I poked her." Eiji was crouched down a little in one of his more aggressive positions, the muscles in his calves poised for a leap.

"Oh, you Seishun people always help each other play dirty and false. That's the only way you could have ever beat him at Nationals, Tezuka," a Hyotei boy accused. "Atobe-sama is the greatest by far! He only loses when dishonorable cheats influence his game somehow!"

Tezuka only stood mute while the others traded insults. Off to one side Inui scribbled furiously. "Hyotei students always display such fascinating examples of cognitive dissonance. I bet if we asked them about when he cut his hair when he lost in Nationals a few years back, they'd say he did it because he's a fashion rebel. What a socio-psychological phenomenon! Good to know, good to know."

Ryoma leaned an elbow on her counter, his face averted away from her vision like the others.

"Ryuuzaki, you could have at least _tried _to defend yourself." That made her gawk at his bluntness; just widening her eyes caused extra rolls of pain through her brain down towards the base of her neck.

"How could I possibly have—?"

"You have knives in that booth, don't you? Almost a full set for cutting?"

The very preposterousness of the idea that she would ever pull a knife on someone in public just for poking her once in the chest brought the pain as far down as into Sakuno's teeth. As if she was some Yakuza thug! If she did have any desire to use her knives at this moment, it would have been on Ryoma himself. The world was going topsy-turvy on its axis, things falling apart, the falcon no longer hearing the falconer. Everything had begun to slip out of her fingers, out of control. Never had she thought her troubles would come to this magnitude.

Unable to keep her splitting head propped up on her neck on its own strength, she slumped down hard onto the counter. At least the surface cooled off her cheek somewhat. "You're all driving me crazy. I can't stand it!"

At last her distress gave the others the impetus to disperse this round of bickering. She didn't see anything, of course, but the voices came clear enough.

"That's it, fun's over. Beat it, all of you," said Ryoma.

"Scram," hissed Kaidoh.

Footsteps retreated a few paces, but not far nor quickly enough. "Go back and do not bother her again. Go." A pause. "Now." The pattering of shoes hitting the pavement with a quickness couldn't come fast enough. Sakuno lifted her head just enough to see Tezuka's back; he was holding his glasses in his right hand. Tomo was trembling and the boys, Ryoma included, all had an extra sheen of pallor on their faces.

"Did you have to make the veins in your eyes throb like that, Buchou?" Momo wibbled. Eiji had thrown his arms around Kaidoh, whose lips were mouthing the word 'mother' over and over again. "Scary. Scary. Scary."

Once the fear abated, only then did Tomo fully recognize that Sakuno still was slumped over and had by now even pulled her braids over her eyes because the July daylight put such a painful strain on them.

"Sakuno, you don't look so good. You okay?" Tomo's voice hovered near her ear. It was a normal murmur. But with each syllable Tomo-chan's voice ricocheted painfully in Sakuno's skull. They rolled around like marbles in her head.

"I feel bad," she replied. Her breath came in deep yet quick heaves as she tried to use her inner air flow to ride out the worst waves, which were coming at semi-regular intervals. She heard the door open behind her and hands take her by the shoulders, half-hefting and half-leading her wobbly legs. A voice she recognized as Tezuka's directed: "Come with me, Ryuuzaki. You need to lie down."

There were several questions bandied about at once, Eiji and Tomo's the loudest and most persistent. Tezuka kept them all at bay and silenced them quickly as Sakuno, her eyes squinted shut against the too-bright sunlight, was lead several pounding meters away to someplace that didn't hurt her eyes so much. That someplace turned out to be a bench under one of the shady trees lining the plaza. Still not wanting to open her eyes, Sakuno let herself be set down full-length on the bench. Tezuka once again had to silence all questions before he asked her directly what was hurting. She told him, and then Tezuka and Inui's voices conferred in mutters.

"Sounds like a migraine to me, Kunimitsu. Symptoms add up," said Inui.

"I was afraid so. She's been under too much stress. Eiji, quit fidgeting like that; she's not dying." There was a little whine and he added sharply. "Look, Eiji, stop fussing and listen. I'll give you some yen. Go to the nearest konbini and get some aspirin. Here. Osakada, you and Echizen keep an eye on the booth for her—you too, Kaidoh. Momoshiro, get some water. Inui, stay here. I'm going to call Coach Ryuuzaki and the Kawamuras."

Sakuno's hand slapped very, very limply against the wrist of the hand that held up the cell phone. She winced at the influx of light and promptly slapped her palm back over her eyes. "No, Tezuka-buchou, please don't. Grandma usually goes out on errands when I'm at work and she won't be at home, and wherever she is, if you call her you'll only make her worried and mad at me. And I don't want to bother Taka-san's family. It's just a headache, buchou. Just let me lie down for a while, take some medicine. If I don't feel much better, I'll go home, I promise."

"Stubborn," Ryoma's voice grunted. "Well, you might as well take this. You need it more than I do right now." A pain-reducing shadow descended over her face, the very distinctive touch of the bill of a cap resting past her chin. Tomo-chan squealed about Ryoma-sama's gallantry in his giving away of his prized Fila cap only to receive a curt order of silence from both Ryoma and Tezuka. Sakuno felt herself being adjusted and her head being pillowed against something relatively soft; one quick peep confirmed that Tezuka had propped her against his lap. If she didn't feel so bad at the moment, she would have demurred against such an action. But as such, it provided some relief from her discomfort.

"Now all of you do what I said. Now." His tone, as per the norm, brooked no argument. Once only three remained, Tezuka sighed and poked her gently to get her attention. "Does it hurt that badly, Ryuuzaki?"

"The way she's holding as still as possible, it appears so. Why don't you try working the pressure points here—" Inui's finger made a careful tap against a specific area on Sakuno's temple, "and on the opposite side. It's no cure but it may ease the discomfort."

Tezuka's fingers rubbing gentle against her temples did alleviate the sharp edge of the pain; Ryoma's cap kept the light and heat away from her face. But the fury of the sun struck down on the rest of her without mercy. Grasping the water-bottle to her cheek helped some. The frequency of their appearance slowed down, but the dots kept on flashing in and out in front of her eyelids. Light-headed from it all, Sakuno began to babble somewhat.

"Kill me, Tezuka-buchou. Kill me now, please. You can have my stereo-"

"No, Ryuuzaki.

"Then what about Inui-senpai? I'm sure he could make a poison I could take."

"Well, if you really need something, Ryuuzaki—" said Inui, his voice piqued.

"The both of you can forget about that idea right now."

"Then…then…let's call Sanada-san and ask him to do it. He's got swords. One whack on the neck and I'm in Heaven. Fetch me my Flintstone's Phone so I can call him up-"

"Sakuno," Tezuka sighed in his monotone, "don't be such a baby. Death-wishes are for the weak! I know it hurts, but you'll get some medicine soon. And as soon as you feel like walking, we're definitely going to call you in sick and get you into bed. You can't work like this."

"Noooo," she moaned. Like many people in her country, to appalled Sakuno to the core that she would fail to fill out her shift; such a thing was inexcusable to her conscience unless she were either dead or in a coma. Tezuka disregarded her protest and put the bottle of water to her lips. A shaky drink later, Sakuno heard someone come jogging up to them, breathing hard: it was Eiji, returned from his mission. Inui made a nonplussed sound and there was a rattling of a medicine bottle being opened. Then she felt something fuzzy shoved up under the bill of the Fila cap right against her nose. Her eyes opened with great effort to find a small stuffed duck staring back at her with its beady eyes.

"Look, Sakuno-chan! I got you something to make you feel better. It's a ducky! And that's not all." A few small objects landed on her stomach. "Here's a bubble blower, some taffy, and a yo-yo!"

"Senpai, she's fifteen, not five," Ryoma, returning with the others, pointed out with some irritation. Since obviously there lay no point in asking if Eiji had any change left over from his spree, Tezuka rattled the aspirin bottle around in his effort to pop the lid. Once the medicine had been administered and a little more hovering went on, Tezuka gave out another set of orders while Sakuno sipped her water. If she accidentally spilled a few drops on her human cushion, he made no mention of it.

"I doubt any of you can cook anything too complicated, but there should be enough pre-made food to take care of the easiest orders. You all, take turns overseeing the place while Ryuuzaki rests for a while longer. When she feels well enough to move, she's taking the bus home. I'll call the Kawamuras and tell them either to close the booth down early or to send someone else to man it."

He spoke with such authority that it had a reassuring effect. Tomo-chan immediately grabbed Ryoma, declaring they would take the first shift. The second-years held back some but didn't argue when ordered a second time. Now only among third years, Sakuno tried to get some rest when Eiji-senpai's solicitous voice once more chimed overhead.

"Do I have to go, Buchou? I can do something here, nyah. I bet Sakuno-chan would like a nice song to help feel better. Here, Sakuno-chan, I'll put you at ease: I talk to the treeeeees, but they don't listen to meeeee…"

"We're not listening to any more of this," snapped Tezuka. "You go with Sadaharu and bother the others. Make sure Kaidoh and Momoshiro don't kill each other."

After Inui had, with some noise, managed to drag Eiji away, Sakuno rejoiced in the blessed, blessed silence that ensued, the only things cognizant to her being the gentle undulations of Tezuka's breathing, his fingers back on her temples, and the gradual easing of her pain that allowed her to doze again.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Not five minutes had passed before Ryoma unceremoniously ditched his post. "Senpai, Osakada, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Wait, Ryoma-sama," Tomo cried, but he had already ducked out, leaving the other five in the lurch. It was a rhetorical question, but when Tomoka muttered an inquiry about where on earth he intended to go, Inui, of course, had an answer.

"If I'm not mistaken, there's a ninety-percent chance he's going to talk with Hyotei on his own."

"WHAT," yelped Momoshiro.

"Stupid." Kaidoh shook his head, squished a lemon to flavor some rice to vent.

"Holy fish on toast, Inui-chan, you're right! He's going over to them, nyah! Is he going to—wait, he's just talking to them. He's not even yelling. That's kinda lame, nyah."

"He's probably issuing a challenge to them." Inui said.

"What, a tennis challenge?" Momoshiro plucked at a few hairs in his confusion. "None of them are on the main tennis team at Hyotei. It'd be no contest; he'd slaughter them. And there'd be no point. They have no beef with him"

"Well, I'm sure Ryoma-sama knows what he's doing, whatever it is. I'm sure he's found some way to defend Sakuno-chan's pride and honor!"

They all determined that it would be the best course to stay at their posts until Sakuno felt better and let Ryoma do what he had in mind, as long as no punches were thrown. Then they'd intervene, though for the males it was more out of fear for Tezuka's wrath at their negligence than any bruises Echizen might get on that proud little face of his.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Forty-five minutes passed until Sakuno felt well enough to move around with security. She could open her eyes against the light without the pain coming on too strong, so she sat back up and demonstrated to her overseer that she could probably make it to the closest bus stop without trouble. This satisfied Tezuka, so once he'd phoned the Kawamuras and explained that she was not well enough to continue work that day, he and Sakuno went back to the booth. Business hadn't been stellar but the five of them had found some little chore to do save for Momoshiro, who presently had mouth crammed with mochi ball covered in sweet bean paste.

"That's enough, you can all go home. Osakada, I think you should stay with Sakuno at her homes until Coach Ryuuzaki returns, so you come with us. Momoshiro, _don't _eat on the job."

"I didn't," protested Momo through his half-clogged jaws. "Echizen, he shoved it right in my face! And I was only asking him a question."

"You should mind your own business, Momo-senpai," Ryoma replied calmly past the glare of inspection Tezuka cast on him.

Eiji waved an accusing spatula at Ryoma's back. "But if you go over to chat with Hyotei, of course we're gonna ask questions, nyah! When I asked him, Tezuka-buchou, he stepped on my toe! He said it was an accident, but I know it was on purpose."

"What?"

The steely question made everyone except Ryoma garble for words.

"You, you mean you don't know, Buchou? You didn't see?"

"No, I don't and didn't. I was tending to Ryuuzaki. Echizen—"

"I didn't do anything, Tezuka-buchou. I just told them a few things and asked them a question."

"More information, Echizen. Tell me everything. Now."

"Yes, yes, you must tell us everything," insisted Tomo, Eiji, and Momo as one. The look Ryoma gave Sakuno filled her with no confidence whatsoever. He had done something evil. She knew it in her heart of hearts.

"I just told them that if their food was half as good as that which is served here, they'd stop beating around the bush like pansies and see who has the superior cooking. If this is an issue of pride and who can beat whom, then there's only one way they can settle this quickly and once and for all. They and Ryuuzaki should choose rules and a date and then have a cook-off. They said they'd consider it. Details will come later. I'm sure that they'll use Monkey King to talk to you about arrangements, Tezuka-buchou."

Silence.

Sakuno gripped her braids. She wailed, actually threw back her head, covered her eyes, and wailed. When she could bear to face ugly reality once more, she glared at Ryoma as best she could.

"Ryoma-kun, what did you just _do?_" she whispered, hardly able to get out even that much coherently; she felt suddenly detached from herself, unable to process anything right. She was still preoccupied with digesting what exactly he had done and said. Just ten minutes ago she and the rabid Atobe Keigo fans from Hyotei were in a comfortable little rut of cold war between them and now it had all erupted into this.

"What do you think I just did, Ryuuzaki? I told them that you could outperform those Monkey King groupies. And now you'll prove it once and for all."

Sakuno grasped at her braids and began tugging at them for dear life, still not quite comprehending the magnitude of this impromptu treaty. "You—you—oh, _Ryoma_-kun! How could you do this to me? I don't want to formally compete against them in any way! I hate competition! And if I lose…" She grabbed at her head again and sank back down on her haunches to rest her face on her familiar friend, the counter. She believed with all her might now that this day had become nothing short of nightmarish.

"Echizen, explain yourself," Tezuka's freezing words ordered, his steely displeasure perhaps more deadly than any amount of screaming or shouting. Ryoma did not seem fazed by the looks cast his way and he tipped his hat down in reflex.

"I think you know, Buchou. The only way to resolve this quickly is for Ryuuzaki to assert herself, show her skills. If she keeps on just hoping that the situation will resolve itself or that some idea will magically pop into her head, she'd be waiting a long time. This will be easier in the long run, if Hyotei agrees to it, and I honestly think they will. Besides," he shrugged, "I know she can win. I've tasted her food and so have you."

Sakuno's mind fazed out during the last sentence, stunned as she was by the penultimate assertion. Never, never before had she heard Ryoma-kun say anything so firmly supportive about her in her own hearing range. She was half-convinced she had hallucinated the whole thing out of the current state of semi-shock she was in.

"Wait, Ryoma-kun; what did you just say? Before the food tasting part," she asked, voice quivering despite herself; there was no way that she could have had the good fortune of Ryoma-kun's voiced support. Maybe going to America again had demented him somehow?

A small puff of air preceded Ryoma's turning to her, eyes strangely solemn yet gazing as if he could see right through her. He nodded with a firm incline of his chin. "I said I know you can win. I would have not said anything if I didn't think you could do it, Ryuuzaki. I know the others know you can win as well. If you don't do this now, you'll be miserable all the rest of the summer. And—" here he turned his head away, "none of us want that."

"Then I'll do it," she was surprised at the own hopeful firmness in her voice. "If Ryoma-kun and my senpai know it, then it has to be true." She twirled one braid in thought and then ran across her first obstacle in facing this problematic solution she had suddenly found herself in; her shoulders drooped. "But I don't have a clue about where to start. I don't think I could come up with any kind of menu right now. I really think the dishes I am good at really aren't special enough; Hyotei has the exotic flair on their side. Onigiri, yakitori, and all that are very tasty, but if you compare it to bouillabaisse, steak, _coq du vin_ or whatever they might come up with, it's…rather paltry. And even if I know I can do it, I'm still nervous."

Suddenly she felt two hands descend upon her shoulders, the warmth from the palms seeping through the fibers of her shirt and touching her skin. A bit surprised at the gesture, Sakuno opened her mouth in a silent exclamation of soft surprise when she saw Tezuka looking down at her, his eyes containing the same streamline of strength Ryoma's had held.

"That's easy enough to fix. I don't like this either, but it appears that this is the best way to get things to end. You've got plenty of time to come up with a menu, so I'm sure you can choose what you're best at. And we can help you, Ryuuzaki. If it's confidence you need, if you need people to give food you've experimented on—"

"As long as it's not like Inui's experiments," chimed in Momo, which got him a hiss from Kaidoh and a shudder from practically everyone else. Tezuka frowned slightly but continued on with his usual gameness.

"As I was saying, we can volunteer our services. Whatever you need help with, I'm sure at least one of us can chip in. We won't abandon our kohai. Besides," he sighed, "whether you win or not, Ryuuzaki, at least it will be over. You can't go on like this without it affecting your health. Just look what happened today; migraines usually don't come out of the blue."

"You'll explode if you don't do something," warned Eiji. "And then who'll bake me cookies and make me all sorts of yummy things at the restaurant and—"

Ah, it was so nice to be appreciated for her personality and mind, really, it was. Sakuno stared down at her shoes. "You can get those anywhere, Eiji-senpai."

"But they wouldn't be made by you, Sakuno-chan! That'd be horrible. It'd be like being a seal with only one flipper or having a BLT and finding no tomatoes!" At that declaration, he reached into his pocket to get some chewing gum.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of the migraine talking or else the pills, but the more she considered the options the better Sakuno felt about what lay ahead. It was a solution, a way out. That was the most important thing. She might end up humiliated by Hyotei, but then the grudge match could end and she could go back to those blissful, idyllic, _normal _days once more. She seriously considered her situation and mused on building her strategy aloud.

"Well, I think the first thing I need to really work on is confidence and learning how not to be so intimidated. So I'll have to tackle that. I'm beginning to think of some way to help me deal with it, but I'll need some back-up."

She said the words slowly, with the deliberation of one thinking very carefully on her feet. Sakuno then turned her head towards her senpai and her eyes fell on the one she was most concerned with, feeling her usual sheepishness come on as everyone started to realize who she was looking at.

"And I think that Kaidoh-senpai would be the best with helping me in this."

Ryoma blinked. Tezuka blinked. Momo coughed. Eiji's gum popped. Inui's glasses slipped askew; a dog barked; and somewhere, perhaps, the angels sighed.

As for Kaidoh himself, there were stroke victims and people electrocuted by lightning that had less stupefaction on their faces than he did. He could only point at his nose, unable to even make one hiss.

_COMING UP NEXT: A trial of courage! The preparations and plans for a finalizing showdown between Sakuno and her adversaries begin! Sakuno, under Kaidoh's tutelage, seeks to overcome her social fears. This adventure will take her to not only Yamabuki Highi, but to St. Rudolph's as well, where she will confront the scariest creature of them all! _


	7. To Build up Courage to Break Down Hearts

_A/N: Almost two whole years without an update! I'm a horrible person. I'm well aware that this chapter is terribly delayed and I am sorry for making those people interested in this story wait for so long. Massive writer's block, switching computers, and a whole lot of real life junk made this chapter as hard as pulling out my own teeth with a pair of pliers. Once again, I apologize. I also want to thank all the readers for their kind reviews, comments, and criticisms. I do read every review and keep your words in mind. I am very grateful! _

_I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I don't think I can do much to improve it right now, so instead of dragging things out for a perfection that can't be accomplished, I decided just to publish it as is. Since I work alone, I've done my best to edit and proofread it but I'm sure I have missed many little things. I try to revise chapters when I can, so hopefully mistakes will be corrected eventually. I still do have to correct that this is taking place during the Japanese school-year summer vacation, so Sakuno is already in high school, though not for very long._

_To make the story work, I also made revisions to Chapter 4. A point brought up in this chapter is that Atobe has yet to formally apologize to Sakuno for helping cause the whole mess she's in. Chapter 4 had dialogue that contradicted this point, so I changed it to keep up with continuity._

_This is a long (28 pages, single spaced, in my WP!) but necessary chapter. I hope it is entertaining enough. I do my best to keep people mostly in character, but sometimes I still sacrifice canon points in the name of that dark god COMEDY. Any death threats can be sent to echizen-ryoma at bite-me . net , thank you.  
_

**Sakuno Adventure #7: To Build Up Courage to Break Down Hearts**

A portrait of sublimest beauty unfurled itself before tantalized eyes. Sakuno traced her bottom lip with a moist tongue, her jaws heavy.

"Oh, my. How exquisite you are, my lovely. Taka-san, if only you could see this right now!"

"I can't believe you got a peek before I did," Taka's voice oozed with invidiousness evident despite the tinny reception of the cell phone. "From the way you talk, I could eat that baby up."

She brought the glossy pages closer to her face to rub her nose against the fragrant inks, giggling in delight at the game. "Hands off, Taka-san! I got the magazine first, I have dibs. Ooooh, I could just drizzle that fine hunk of meat in soy sauce and feast and feast until I could explode!"

"Hum," said a disregarded voice from behind her; she was too preoccupied with kissing the photograph and creating smacking noises while Taka laughed at her greed. A few seconds later Sakuno opened her eyes, about to tear her face from the tent of the magazine, when up close she spied something in the picture that made her squawk.

Upon being asked what the matter was by Taka, she could manage just one word. "Airbrushed!"

"You mean they're fake?"

"Yes, Taka-san! Can you believe it? How cheap."

"Disgusting!"

"Vile." Sakuno shook her head and threw down the magazine on the bench beside her, hardly believing how people could so easily throw away pride and dignity in their work. "I don't believe this-this perversion I see before me!"

"I never thought I'd see the day that 'Sushi Aficionado' would airbrush its feature segments," Taka's voice mourned. "Well I hear Dad coming, so I better let you go. Good luck with today, Sakuno-chan."

Their goodbyes out of the way, Sakuno crumpled up her magazine and tossed it towards the nearest recycle bin, shaking her fist. "Return from whence you came!"

The magazine sailed over its target, so Sakuno stomped over to retrieve it and give it a second toss, which also missed the mark, and so she settled for cramming the disobedient thing into the bin with satisfying violence. Once her indignation had abated, she found Kaidoh-senpai not too far away from her bench, one eye squinting and the other wide with concern.

"Oh, hi!" Sakuno waved at him, arms spread wide to indicate that she was a perfectly sane kohai who intended him no harm so that he wouldn't go running off—she had no chance of catching him with his speed and endurance. Kaidoh-senpai stood his ground at her approach but he seemed to be considering flight as a viable option.

"That was a cooking magazine," were his first words to her. No one had ever started a conversation with her with words like that. It was obvious from his odd preamble that he wasn't quite at ease, so his dutiful kohai instinctively took a cue from the kittens and puppies he loved so well and quirked her head, eyes large, after she had bowed in greeting.

"Of course, Kaidoh-senpai. Taka-san and I always like to discuss the newest issues of our favorite magazines right when they come out. We make a game of who can get the issue first and find out what's featured in the spreads." Genuine curiosity forced her to scratch at a cheek. "What did you think we were talking about?"

Kaidoh hissed to cover up self-chagrin. For some reason unknown to her, he acted like he had been caught at something shameful. "Nothing, Ryuuzaki. Let's just get this started."

Before they had split up the previous afternoon, Sakuno had, though it took all of her skill and the sweetest pouts she could muster, managed to cajole her serpentine senpai into meeting her at an agreed upon place the following morning. Kaidoh-senpai had balked and acted very mulish about the whole proposition until he'd gotten an iron-bound oath from Tezuka that none of the other tennis players would go on any spying expeditions or embarrass them in any way during their mission. Both Momoshiro and Eiji had deflated visibly when Tezuka added that he'd personally break the legs of any snoops and then still force them to run laps, or else that he would sic Taka-san on them. Oishi had continued to fret and none of the other tennis players seemed very pleased about the turn of events with Hyotei except Ryoma, who looked confident and unruffled as ever, and Fuji, whose moods most rational people tried not to anticipate.

"Don't worry, everyone," Sakuno had said for probably the twentieth time over the fretting, "Kaidoh-senpai can help me. I'm sure of it."

"I am sure he will," Tezuka had agreed, but he sent Kaidoh a rather scary glance that promised much pain if Sakuno's plan, whatever it was, should fail. Kaidoh kept his eyes flickering nervously back between his captain and the kohai who had so abruptly conscripted him into her service, but he had neither the heart nor the lack of brains to refuse. Even as he was apprehensive under Tezuka's scrutiny, however, he managed to scowl at the others.

"And if _any _of you—especially you, Eiji-senpai, and you, fool—try to interfere with us or spy on us somehow, I WILL KILL YOU."

With the assurance the threat provided, Sakuno was able to meet Kaidoh-senpai in secure privacy, and here she found herself walking along next to him. For all his recalcitrance, Kaidoh-senpai had arrived at their rendezvous with some destination in mind; he told her that he had thought about her dilemma and request and made some calls to scope out the best places to practice building up enough self confidence that she could face unpleasant people without hyperventilating, fainting, or being crippled by a migraine. Before they had set out to wherever they were going, Sakuno had given him some cookies wrapped up in a nice green cloth with patterns for his trouble—she told him he could use it as a bandana after he washed it, which seemed to amuse him. He snacked on a cookie as they walked, Sakuno's legs skittering to keep up with him.

"I still don't see why you didn't ask buchou to help you. He's a lot scarier than I am. Better at telling people how to practice on their faults as well," he grunted through a mouthful of cookie. Kaidoh's plunging, perpetually-angry eyebrows managed to quirk in true curiosity.

At his words, Sakuno placed her hand over a telltale quirk in her lips. How to intimate, with all the delicacy that such a revelation required, that it was very difficult for her to consider a young man whom she had used to finagle into a pink apron, answer to the name Mrs. Nesbit, and sit down for a tea party almost the first time he came over to baby-sit actually scary? She had nothing but the highest respect for Tezuka-buchou and she could feel very intimidated by him for certain—yet true fear? Just one thought of him in that red-dyed straw hat decorated with rosettes just killed the terror.

She could also not bring herself to explain that when she and Tezuka had gotten reacquainted after about two years later, after she entered Seigaku Junior High for her first year, he had made her swear to keep mum about the whole babysitting connection.

"You'll tell no one about—_those_ days. I have a reputation to live up to, Ryuuzaki," he had said to her once, after she had dropped off some snacks for the regulars.

"No, Tezuka-buchou," she had answered.

"Not Oishi, definitely not Inui, and above all, definitely, absolutely, certainly _not Fuji_," he had warned; the glint in his glasses had held an ominous promise, ominous enough to make Sakuno renew her vow just by remembering it.

With hindsight, she really couldn't see what he would have been able to actually do to her back then. Beat her up? Unthinkable. Spread rumors? Also unthinkable, and it wasn't as if he had any dirt on her anyway. Make her run laps? She had been on the girls' team; his powers would have been useless against her! But Sakuno took the promise to heart, if only for sheer decency. At school it was rather more fun to have the secret just between the two of them, even if some of her family knew about the playtime as well, since her grandmother had actually secretly recorded part of the session for home video. Viewing it was always a big hit during the family New Year's party.

No, there was no way she could tell Kaidoh anything about her secret reasons, so she settled for deflecting the subject back onto him. "Because, Kaidoh-senpai, you're definitely the scariest person I know I can trust. Besides, I think most of the other senpai would be too easy on me, or they might take it too far and kill me in the process. If anyone can help me how to stand up to people, it's you!" He blinked at her and she grinned shakily. "A—And Momo-senpai always says that one look from you makes little children cry."

The glower the last remark received only served as further evidence for her claim. To keep herself from wilting under that glare, Sakuno decided to inquire again as to what the exact destination he had in mind was. The response did little to reassure her nerves.

"You'll see," he told her. "I won't say anything now because you might chicken out. Just follow me."

Complements of her rather worse-than-average sense of direction, Sakuno did not recognize the route they took and only began to comprehend their intended destination when the two of them halted right in front of the school's front entrance. The Yamabuki Academy for highschoolers sign stared down at her tauntingly with its name, establishment date, and shiny embossed letters.

"Um, K-Kaidoh-senpai, are you sure this is the right place for us to be? Yamabuki probably isn't the friendliest place for us now."

"Has to be. I know he's here. I checked with Inui-senpai this morning; he's never wrong about these things. Let's go in. The sports area is always open to the public in the summer."

At her reticent foot-shuffling and inaudible murmurs of diffidence, Kaidoh hissed out his annoyance. "You wanna do this or not, Ryuuzaki? Or are you gonna waste more of my time?" His impatience spurred Sakuno on to overcome the rapidly increasing foreboding chilling her bones. The two resumed walking, Sakuno's stride hardly matching Kaidoh's in confidence that she would live to see the end of this day. Queasiness lurched inside her stomach. But no! She had to go on. Only two years ago she would have most likely been throwing up because of nerves now; but this was necessary, and necessity tempered her fortitude.

That was it. One foot after the other. As they approached the tennis courts, Sakuno wondered who on earth this sagely person they sought could be. Another tennis player? At her questioning, Kaidoh replied, "Nah, he doesn't play anymore. But there should be some people here who still keep in touch with him and can tell us where he is."

Following a brief scan of the crowd milling about the chain links surrounding the courts, Kaidoh guided her to a bench where some boys in tennis uniforms were resting and he approached one of them, an incredibly skinny youth who had a somewhat familiar hairstyle framing a boyish face. Upon their arrival the boy rose to meet them and all Sakuno's vision could behold was leg, leg stretching towards the heavens. The boy towered over Kaidoh by almost a third of a meter and gave Kabaji a good run for his money; his stork-like legs only served to give him the further illusion of height. This was no tennis player—he had to be on the basketball team.

"Can I help you? You're Kaidoh-san, aren't you?" The voice, not yet grown to match the boy's height, quivered and cracked a little on the last word. Sakuno craned her neck to look more closely at the boy's face while letting Kaidoh answer for them both.

"It's been a long time since I saw you on the courts, Taichi. We just want to know where Akutsu is. Do you know where we can find him?"

So now she realized where the familiar vibes had came from. Sakuno's mouth rounded in her epiphany. If anything, she should have recognized the headband, the raggedly trimmed hair, the sweet face and eager deer eyes. But even she couldn't chastise herself too much. Nobody could have ever suspected that cute little Taichi Dan, once exactly her and Ryoma-kun's height, would grow into a twiggy colossus in so short a time. She swore he hadn't been nearly so tall last year's season.

"Dan-kun? It's good to see you again. You've grown so much!"

Taichi beamed down at her and greeted her warmly, though he quickly became embarrassed and apologetic. Like Sengoku before him, Dan explained to her that it had never been his or the team's intention to add to her troubles with Hyotei, but Sakuno waved them off. It did not feel right to have poor Dan apologize for something that wasn't his fault.

"Well anyway, please follow me. I'll show you where he is," said Dan. His cheerful face went at odds with his skittish legs which were almost tripping over each other and his rapid movements. The two guests fell in step behind him.

Along the way, still preoccupied with meeting Dan-kun, the Seigaku students talked a little with him about tennis. Somehow the conversation turned to a specific player and Dan kept on chattering in an uninterrupted stream: "It's unusual for people from other schools to come out and look for Akutsu-senpai since he stopped playing, and he's maybe not the easiest to get along with because of what he's done in the past, but he's a good guy. Really! I'm sure he'll appreciate the company of people that aren't from the old team. I worry that his people skills are rusting."

He went on, but the significance of the name Kaidoh-senpai had mentioned finally hit Sakuno with the abruptness of a thunderbolt. She froze in place. Her knees wobbled. All the color drained from her face and she stared her senpai with betrayal smarting in her eyes. She never knew that Kaidoh had any dislike for her, but this clearly signaled that he hated her.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute, Kaidoh-senpai! What did you mean, 'Akutsu'? You're not talking about the bully who beat up poor Kachiro-kun and hurt Ryoma-kun in middle school, are you?"

As he nodded to confirm her fears, Kaidoh hissed out a sigh. "That's why I didn't want to tell you until we got here. I knew you'd freak out."

Sakuno felt faint and, heedless in her panic, began to wail. "Of course I'm freaking out, senpai! He's going to get mad at me for bothering him and beat me to a pulp! Grandma will have to identify my body by the clothes!" She began to pace in a tight circle, alternatively wringing her hands and her braids. "If I go to the hospital, who'll pay all my bills? Oh, this is bad. Very bad."

"It's not so bad, Ryuuzaki-san," Dan coaxed; he had his hand poised over her shoulder but apparently did not have the confidence to lay it down anywhere on a female body. "He's not so bad. He hasn't put anyone in the hospital for years now. I promise!"

Well-intentioned words, but hardly comforting for one who had been so grossly betrayed was staring down at imminent death. Sakuno decided that slamming her head against the ground until blissful unconsciousness took her and she awoke in her room, or at the very least a hospital bed, would be a good alternative to this mess. Hardly had the plan formed in her brain, however, before the world went dark without her head receiving one knock. The darkness pressed warmly against her eyelids.

There was a happy chuckle wafting down a little above her ears. "Well now! Was there someone special you were looking for, Sakuno-chan? Lucky me!"

The voice's owner was not particularly unwelcome, yet Sakuno drooped her shoulders underneath the weight of yet another interaction so far from her comfort zone. These Yamabuki students would smother her to death if they weren't going to rip her limb from limb. Light tinted orange-red filtered through her lids into her unopened eyes. Sakuno gave the speaker a bow of her head , eyes still closed to continue savoring the briefest respite of not having to gaze upon the reality of the mad world entrapping her.

"It's good to see you again, Sengoku-san." When she dared look at him, she met with his flashing teeth and his arms held akimbo.

"I knew you would come back to me. It was only a matter of time." The edges of Sengoku's smile crept up so far they squinted his eyes. Sakuno trusted him to keep his hands away well enough but Kaidoh-senpai certainly did not. He swooped next to them and pushed Sengoku firmly back several paces.

"Lay off, Sengoku. She's not here for you, fool. Ryuuzaki is going to speak to Akutsu."

For a brief second Sengoku's smile was a sharp slit that promised some danger; his eyebrows flew upward. "Down, Viper-boy. I'm only teasing. It's what friends do. And I most definitely am Sakuno-chan's friend. Need I remind you that you're not on your home turf? You need to work on your manners."

He gently pulled Sakuno aside and, still smiling but not so shark-like, poked her shoulder in remonstrance. "Well, this is weird. You and Akutsu, Sakuno-chan? I hate to say this about my esteemed schoolmate, but you can do better. Like me!" A wink.

Left to Kaidoh's judgment, the situation might have degenerated into a battle royale of fisticuffs had Sakuno extricated herself as politely as possible from Sengoku's friendly clasp. If it were up to her she would gladly choose the slight discomfort of being teased by Sengoku over having her face bashed in by Akutsu. However, Kaidoh-senpai had brought her to this place for a purpose.

She was more certain it was for the purpose of killing her. Dan continued to lead them to a patch of trees on the school grounds under which the fearsome terror of Yamabuki laid stretched out, elbows cradling the back of his head. Sengoku followed along for the fun and—so he said—to give her moral support and rescue her if things got too hairy. All too soon they were a short distance from Akutsu and Sakuno felt utterly deserted, the two other Yamabuki students told to stay back by her own senpai while he dragged her towards her destruction.

Kaidoh-senpai nudged her towards Akutsu's supine form. Surely he heard them coming; each time her senpai nudged her Sakuno dragged her heels unconsciously into the grass and squeaked, and Dan was shouting out encouragement from twenty meters away. Sengoku's laughter did not make things any quieter.

"Go on," Kaidoh hissed the command in her ear. He stepped back, abandoning her to fate. Clasping her sweating hands in front of her, Sakuno tip-toed to close the remaining short distance. As she thought, Akutsu was wide awake. When her shadow added to that of the tree and fell across him, he cracked open one eye. With a snort, he stubbed out the cigarette he was enjoying on the ground beside him; Dan had told her on the way here that he still hadn't given up that vice.

Jin Akutsu rose to his full height, stretched his arms over his head with a killer's grace, and then settled those eyes that could stare down a Yakuza and make him burst into flames upon her. Sakuno knew her last hour was come. How could she face this beast? He would murder her.

"Whaddya want with me?" His voice boomed down at her.

Sakuno said nothing. Her mouth opened a little bit.

A second later, Jin narrowed his eyes and moved a step closer to her. "Well?"

Kaidoh-senpai was discreetly but desperately poking her in the back as he tried to elicit a reaction, a sneeze, cry, anything from the mute little mannequin that once was his kohai. "Come on, Ryuuzaki, _do _something," he whispered to her, voice rife with urgency.

"Be nice to her, please, Akutsu-senpai!"

"It's okay if you faint, Sakuno-chan, I know CPR!"

"_Go away_!" Kaidoh yelled back at them. With him preoccupied, Sakuno had no shred of armor left.

Jin took another step towards her; the beginnings of a growl or snarl rumbled in his throat.

"Please don't kill me," she squeaked.

That stopped the beast right from charging, too stupefied to move further, staring at this long-braided freak with her arms held rigidly at her sides, standing straight at attention in her terror. Sakuno's face was surprisingly slack but her eyes were huge, the eyes of hunted and cornered prey. Once Jin had relished such reactions from his former victims, but now it seemed so pathetic.

"Dammit, you little weirdo, I'm not going to kill you," Jin snapped. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Why the hell are you bothering me? If you don't have anything to say, stop wasting my time. And who," he directed his attention to a less heart-rending sight, "the fuck are you? You seem familiar but I don't remember ya."

"Watch your language in front of the lady," Kaidoh warned. "And my name is Kaidoh Kaoru."

"Oh. Seigaku scum. I don't have any more truck with you people, but if you're looking for a fight I'm game for it."

This called for a desperate distraction. Her senpai was in grave danger if she did not turn the beast's attention back on her.

"Um, um—want to see something neat?" Sakuno reached for her blouse to tug it out from her skirt band and then bunched up the cloth just above her second rib on the right side. Her bellybutton was partially exposed, as was the birthmark, as wide as two of her fingers, on her lower ribcage. Sakuno did not make it a habit to go around showing it to everyone, but she was not as self-conscious about this mark as she could have been. This was mainly because it was rather cute. It consisted of a small circular base and two elongated brownish-pink ovals. Sakuno, her grandmother, and Tomo-chan all agreed that it could only resemble one creature.

Her voice and smile watered. "Ta-da! It's a bunny!"

"What the frig," Jin slowly demanded after a few seconds. Kaidoh scratched his head, unable to do anything else. In the distance, Sengoku hooted and cheered her on. Dan had fainted at the impropriety of it all.

"Um—well, if you look at it and turn it on its side, I guess you could say it looks like a duck, too. If I breathe just right, I can make it look like its bouncing."

"What the frig," he demanded of her again.

"Oh sweet mama," laughed Sengoku. "Jin, move out of the way so I can see better!" Kaidoh yelled back at him to shut up. Jin himself twisted his eyes to add his own glare to forceful desire for privacy.

"Beat it. And take Taichi with you." Sengoku retreated when he Dan up to his feet after a few good shakes, but not after giving a jaunty salute to Akutsu, followed by blowing a kiss towards Sakuno. She did her best to ignore it and focus on resuming the conversation at hand.

"Are you still going to kill me?"

Really too stunned to get murderously angry, the two-toned haired terror of Yamabuki settled for throwing up his hands towards his face. "What the hell are you talking about, twerpette? You think I'm in the business of beating up girls? Where's the fun in that? Besides, you're Taka's little coworker, aren't you, what with the stupid frilly braids and all? He's talked about you. If I did anything to you, he'd never lay off my ass. And just so you know, it looks like a clothespin to me."

Once she had tucked her shirt back in and the bunny/duck/clothespin went out of sight, Kaidoh could finally react to the situation, if only a feeble: "Ryuuzaki—you—"

Not exactly the reactions that she hoped for, but it did not appear that there would be any better time to plunge ahead. The worst was over. The beast was slightly confused, off balance and not so agitated, so she could proceed as she saw fit.

"Well, well then," she ventured with the utmost effort to keep her voice and demeanor somewhat calm; "can I ask you something, then? I'm going through a rough time right now, you see, and Kaidoh-senpai agreed to help me out and so he brought me here, even if I didn't expect it, because I'm kind of a weenie and I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own without him to kick me into action; it's kind of like a mama bird shoving out a chick from the nest so that it either gets over being afraid of flying or goes splat on the ground. Not that I'm saying Kaidoh-senpai wants to kill me. . ."

"Spit it out, twerpette."

"When you, you were in the business of…well, beating people up, tormenting them, and I guess you liked to steal their spending money—not that I think you do that anymore, I know you don't!—why did you do it?"

Akutsu bit down on his cigarette so hard that his teeth broke the paper and he flung the useless thing down on the ground. His fingers scrambled for the pack to retrieve a new one, not lighting it.

"You came all this way just to ask me that?"

"Ah—yes. It may seem silly to you, Akutsu-san, but this is a very serious issue for me."

"Heh. Being bullied around, eh? You look like the type."

"I know," she sighed in a miserable way. "But why? Why do people keep on picking on me? I've been bullied before, and I could live it with it then. Now it's affecting my job. I can't enjoy my work anymore. I don't think I'd get fired, but I like running the summer booth and I can't stand the thought of the Kawamuras' business hurting just because these bullies want to get at me."

Akutsu Jin regarded her severely and took a reflexive smokeless puff on his cigarette, then twirled it between his knuckles as he answered. "Depends. There're lots of reasons people make hell for other people. Some do it because their home life sucks and they need to take it out on someone else or they'll go nuts, and it's not like they can fight their folks on equal terms yet. Sometimes it's just that they're jerks. And it can also be a whole bunch of small bits of the other stuff all mixed in together. But if you're asking for my own story, then forget it. I'm not here so you can play psychologist with me, twerpette. You'll get nothing like that from me."

He leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. Akutsu's hard gaze bored right into her, unwavering. Sakuno felt the discomfort of it in the tenseness of her shoulders—he had unyielding eyes that contained no softness. "I'll also tell you this right now: Fretting and thinking so much about their motivations is a damn waste of time. Doesn't matter what the reasons are; they're after your shrimpy little hide. You get them to stop. That's what's important here."

She apparently had a very crestfallen look on her face because Akutsu slapped his hand down his face, which pulled at the skin of his lower eyelids to show the red. He looked more ogreish than ever. Sakuno's knees shook once as he threw the unlit cigarette to the earth and growled, "Damn it. Okay, I'll humor you. You came all this way to bother me, so might as damn well make the most of it. Tell me more about this problem. Make it quick."

Sakuno very quickly told him the history of her troubles, starting with the fateful, wretched day that her bento had been stolen. After recounting the moves Hyotei had made against her booth, she asked him: "Why do they have to torment me like this? Why can't they let it go? Atobe-san was the one who stole my bento anyway, when I specifically told him not to. I couldn't have let him take away something that wasn't meant for him."

Out of force of habit Jin picked up the cigarette from the ground, not caring about any bits of dirt clinging to the filter, blew an invisible breath, and twirled it from finger to finger. "You should have, if you didn't want this mess to happen. What's a bento worth, anyway? To be frank, twerpette, I think you were pretty damn stupid to chase after Atobe like that and confront him right in public. What the Hyotei students saw was you being uppity to their oh-so-beloved Student Prez."

Sakuno rarely got agitated enough to kick something, but a clod of grass and dirt under her foot went flying. She really thought the main issue was being glossed over. "But he stole my grandmother's bento, I'm telling you!"

"And I'm telling you that that little fact means diddly-crap," snapped Jin. "I'm telling you like it is. Atobe didn't think it was wrong; you think his groupies would either? They're not interested in your side of things, and it seems that whenever you try to tell them what happened they don't believe you. And why should they? You're nothing to them. Just some twerp-girl from a rival school who was oh so rude to their top pretty boy. You can't reason with people when they're like that." He sent her a rather dangerous smirk, flicking his finger at her senpai. "You think I cared when I beat up your little school chums back in the day? Hell, if that chump over there did something to really piss me off, I'd pound him into the pavement with no regrets."

Knowing how Kaidoh-senpai didn't mind a good scrap now and then when provoked, Sakuno dreaded that a fight would break out. But Kaidoh stood his ground, grunting with the effort of restraint, and only he scowled, hissed, and spat into the grass at his feet.

"Good boy," Jin laughed.

"J-Jin-san, please don't be mean to him. He's done nothing but help me here."

"I say what I want, you little twerpette. This isn't your territory anyway," Jin grunted, but without malice. "You don't like my answers, then tough. I admit you seem like a good enough kid, pretty much like Taichi. Sweet-natured and stuff. But just because you're nice, because you're polite—that's not going to always save you. People put a lot less stock in those things than they'd have you believe. They don't care for people without qualities that speak to them. And you, twerpette, don't have any qualities they like. Unless you suddenly change your tune and kiss Atobe's perfect ass all the time, they're going to keep hating you. Even if you did play by their rules, they'd know you'd be faking it. They'd still hate you. Take the easy or hard way, it ends up the same. "

The knowledge made Sakuno gingerly and regretfully resign herself to the inevitable. "So they're not going to listen. I'm going to have to go through with this plan."

"That's right. Hate to say it, but Echizen had the right idea. You might lose, but it's still better than rolling over like a dog. You're never going to win them over anyway. I think you should take this chance to have it on some of your own terms, at least."

Sakuno figured she probably had known that Ryoma-kun's idea was the best way for her to tackle things; still, she did not relish what was to come. She could only face her best option with numb determination. Yet there was more she discovered: she had not only managed to have a conversation with a terrifying ex-delinquent, it had been a comfort to talk about things with him. The realization formed little pockets of warmth in the numbness.

Unable to think of anything else to say, Sakuno' notion of graciousness informed her that it was the proper time to go. She bowed and took her leave, speaking for Kaidoh-senpai as well, since he was not the kind to waste politeness on Akutsu.

"Hey," Jin's voice barked after them as they moved away. Sakuno turned around to give her full attention.

"Good luck, twerpette," he called out, raising his fingers; Sakuno returned the half-hearted farewell and left the Yamabuki gates with Kaidoh. Well, she commended herself, that could have gone much worse, and she didn't faint or cry or anything. She was rather proud of herself. It had been quite the feat for her, and perhaps Kaidoh-senpai might be proud of her as well, maybe say something to that effect, like 'good job' or even just a hiss of approval for her decent showing. Her heart was still pounding from the nerve-wracking encounter; a nice word could help slow it down faster.

"Ryuuzaki."

She peered up at her senpai, eyes expectant.

"You handled that pretty well. Not in the way I expected—that birthmark is weird as hell—but you managed, and in front of Akutsu no less." He managed to make his eyebrows not plunge so deeply and he gave a deep nod of his head to her. "Good work. If you can handle Akutsu, you can handle anyone."

Sakuno smiled, her step adding a skip at her senpai's praise. Nevertheless, she did not think that Akutsu Jin was really as bad as everyone said. No one who befriended someone like Taichi Dan and had kept a friendship with her Kawamura-senpai could be a monster, and she said so. Kaidoh only rolled his eyes and hissed that she hadn't seen the worst of what happened when Akutsu had served rocks at Kachiro and Ryoma three years ago. Rather stubbornly, Sakuno answered that if Ryoma-kun and Kawamura could let the past lie, so could she.

As they walked out of the Yamabuki High grounds Kaidoh's phone rang. Sakuno did not catch the number or name, but her senior mouthed the words 'Inui-senpai' and beckoned her over closer so she could listen in to the call.

"So, Kaidoh-kun, how did it go?"

"Fine."

"Ryuuzaki-san did not faint or run away? I must admit, both Tezuka and I had reservations about this little expedition of yours. I calculated many variable outcomes based on my existing data and fainting was at the top of the list."

"She did fine, senpai."

"Good, good. Good data. Also, Kaidoh-kun: did you find out anything interesting? Anything I should add to my notebooks? The best data is relevant and up-to-date. And we must have only the best data."

The muscles in Kaidoh's shoulders tensed and squirmed under his shirt. Sakuno could tell he did not want to disappoint his senpai, the one who had personally trained him, yet she was terrified of what would happen if what had been divulged today reached Inui. He would surely latch on to the mystery of her birthmark and put her through scientific torments, all in the name of obtaining data. She took the edge of Kaidoh's shirt in silent pleading, her gaze filled with the promise of many delectable homemade treats, the finest bandanas money could buy, her eternal gratitude and devotion, anything he could want.

"No, senpai. Nothing new at all."

With that, he closed the phone.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Kaidoh's plan had become clear. If he was determined to throw her into the fire directly, surviving the Yamabuki trial raised Sakuno's confidence enough that she did not object when her senpai informed her the following day that the next place they would visit was the St. Rudolph Academy along with its high-school dormitories.

"You could talk with Akustu. Surely you can do yourself a huge favor now and at least get the whole Duck-Face issue out of the way," he had told her.

Because St. Rudolph's had an enclosed campus with many areas blocked off by gates that only students and teachers with identification cards could open, before meeting with Kaidoh Sakuno had to ring up Yuuta-kun so she could ask him to escort them around the campus. What made the arrangement more optimal was that he would probably know where to find the certain person she desired to see. Yuuta readily agreed to meet her at the main gate, but he did grouse somewhat at the prospect of letting in another Seishun Gakuen High student onto his turf, especially one who was on the rival tennis team.

"But I need Kaidoh-senpai with me, Yuuta-kun," she'd pressed, "he's working with me on this. I don't want to leave him out of the loop."

A pause and Yuuta grunted. "Fine. But you owe me some pumpkin curry for this. The other guys aren't going to like having one of your senpai around, especially if it's the Viper. They'll give me hell for it later. Kisarazu and Yanagisawa don't like him much."

"All right, Yuuta-kun, I'll make you lots of curry. I don't see why they have to give you so much trouble, though. I mean, they don't mind _me _coming over, do they?"

"No. But you're a girl. It's different."

"But Kaidoh-senpai hasn't played against you guys in a while and he never bothers you," Sakuno pressed on, truly confused about this whole territorial dispute. Perhaps it was another one of those 'dumb male things' her Grandma always congratulated her on not being exposed to very often.

"You just don't understand guys' tennis, Ryuuzaki-chan."

Sakuno figured as much. Nonetheless, not wanting to make Yuuta's life harder, she promised to make extra snacks for the rest of his team to coax their anger away, if it would work, and Yuuta said it had a pretty good chance. She had further business with that team, after all, and it would pay off to have them kindly disposed towards her visit. She also promised that Kaidoh-senpai would make nice with them while accompanying her—she had promised _him _a big sack of adzuki buns if he behaved himself.

"But why do you want to come all the way here, Ryuuzaki-chan?" Yuuta had asked before she hung up. "If it's about our guys and making sure they don't bother you, I told you I've got it under control."

"I'll explain when I get there, Yuuta-kun." Any further prying would have no success, so Yuuta caved in and asked no more about it.

And so, armed with the snacks and curry that were her most potent weapons in dealing with the opposite sex, the next morning Sakuno set out to meet Kaidoh at a bus stop, and from there they traveled to St. Rudolph's, where Yuuta punctually met them. Sakuno handed over his box of pumpkin-curry rice with some secrecy, which Yuuta stowed away in his backpack for protection. He was very jealous of his curry, just like a bear coveting his honey-tree.

Only a grunt and a nod passed between her senpai and the younger Fuji, yet they didn't act overtly hostile; it was good a sign as any. But then Yuuta noticed the bandana Kaidoh wore. Silk-screened upon standard green cloth background cavorted several cartoony turtles on surfboards.

"Nice look there, Viper. Or should we call you Turtle from now on?"

Somehow Kaidoh formed a coherent response past the grinding of his teeth. "Don't push it."

"It's so cute," Yuuta laughed. Sakuno nodded.

"It is, isn't it? That's why I bought it for Kaidoh-senpai yesterday and gave it to him this morning with some snacks. He loves cute things. I knew he'd like it. I had him try it on right away when I gave it and he looks so nice in it." True, he had looked rather queasy at the thought of wearing the bandanna in public, but Sakuno was sure the cuteness of the turtles had won him over.

"I like it because of the color. And it's a gift from a kohai. I bet you never received anything from your underclassmen," Kaidoh ground out.

Sakuno only smiled knowingly, saying no more; she doubted her senpai could continue to keep face if she mentioned that just this morning on the way here he had cooed (if the hissing sound he made could be counted as cooing, but his face had been smitten) over a woman's pet parakeet at the bus stop. Let Kaidoh-senpai act as tough as he wanted, she knew the truth. He hated the nickname anyway. It was time for a kinder, gentler image for Kaidoh-senpai!

Yuuta ignored the last remark, distracted by the food. He happily took the curry Sakuno had brought and some of the other snacks, leaving her only needed to hold the sack of Kaidoh's adzuki buns. As he let them onto the main campus, Yuuta asked her the pressing question.

"You said you'd tell me what brought you here," he reminded her. Sakuno already felt a bit wobbly at the very thought of her mission in this place and had to forcibly bear her spirits up. She was with friends, after all. She needed to relax. Nothing would hurt her. She looked at how pretty and well-tended this campus was, the sweet smell of grass and leaves in the heat. . .

"Well, Yuuta-kun, I'm actually curious to know where the rest of your tennis team is. You see, I'd like to talk to—"

A flurry of purple topped with black came flying up the path in front of them. As the flurry came rushing closer, it revealed itself to be a young man with very shiny hair. From the distance his eyes loomed large and dark in his face. Then it turned out that his eyes really weren't that big after all, but that he had humongous bags under his eyes, bags so deep and bruised looking they could have been mistaken for a double set of black eyes received in a brawl.

"_Yuuta-kun_, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you! Don't you know that your brother, my eternal rival, will surely be—_AHA!" _He barked, eyes getting a crazed glaze, upon seeing Sakuno in the group. He leveled his finger at her. "I knew it!"

"Mizuki-senpai, I thought Akazawa-buchou told you to take the week off from practice. You need the rest. I'm just showing Ryuuzaki here around the place."

Sakuno hadn't wanted to cower behind anyone, but she did incline her body a bit closer to Kaidoh at this interruption. She eyed Mizuki warily; she didn't know it had gotten this bad with him. Along the hairline of Mizuki's twisty bangs she could make out small hairless patches. His skin didn't have a very healthy sheen to it.

"Ah, Yuuta-kun, you are still so naïve. Surely you haven't forgotten my eternal rival's, your brother's, tricks! This is no doubt what he's been setting me up for! This girl is nothing more than a front to let Seigaku infiltrate our campus and do evil things to me, to all of us. Isn't that right, Kaidoh-kun?" Mizuki shifted his feverish gaze. "What are you here for? Talk! What did Fuji tell you to do? Don't try to deny it! This coincided with my calculations perfectly. You won't get me!"

"Get away from me, you freak," Kaidoh hissed snappishly. He pulled his arm away from grabbing distance, taking Sakuno back with him.

"You can't fool me. You have no power here, Seigaku. Talk!"

"Mizuki-senpai, please, he's not going to do anything to you. I wouldn't let him. Just go to the dorms and _sleep._" Yuuta's reassurances fell on heedless ears.

"I have better things to do than bother St. Rudolph's," grumbled Kaidoh. "I'm here with Ryuuzaki."

Mizuki's paranoiac brain seized upon that piece of information immediately. He turned on her. "Then it's _you _after all! I should have known. You're the one Fuji has sent against me. Listen, girl, it was nothing personal, me deciding to help out Hyotei, but if it means getting back at my rival in any way, then I will do anything it takes. The two of you didn't have to take it so hard. But I'm two steps ahead of you. St. Rudolph's will never yield!" His hands started reaching out for her. "I've been waiting, waiting, _waiting _for my enemy to make a move, spending my nights figuring out how to beat him, and finally he's shown his hand. I'll turn the tables on you all—"

His fingers were getting closer and Sakuno had done her best not to flinch, yet this was now getting too creepy for her.

It really wasn't a hard slap, having no real force behind it, yet it was enough to get that glaze off of Mizuki's eyes. He rubbed his cheek in disbelief. "You slapped me!"

Kaidoh had gawked at first but quickly regained equilibrium. "Of course she did. You were acting like a total head-case, you creep. Fuji-senpai's not planning to do anything to you. Stupid. This is all so stupid."

Sakuno wanted to be happy that she had held her ground, but she was overcome with shame at her reflex. He had alarmed her—but she had never slapped a boy, not counting some cousins, in public before. She could have slapped herself for her lack of self-control. If she couldn't handle a sleep-deprived Mizuki, how could she ever hope to face down HIM?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Mizuki-san! Here, let's sit you down over here. Yuuta-kun is right, you need to sleep. You look very bad." She mumbled more apologies as she and Yuuta helped him stagger over to a bench to rest. Mizuki waved her efforts away.

"It's all right; I needed something to give me a jolt anyway. I'll forgive you this time, since Yuuta-kun trusts you. But I swear if I catch you spying at least once, I'm throwing the two of you out. We have practice today. Oh, yes! Yuuta-kun, we need you at the court now. The others want to get started."

Once again, Mizuki had made a slight miscalculation on how antsy his teammates were to get the practice in near 40 degree Celsius summer heat over and done with. Voices preceded an approaching group of figures. The tall, dark-skinned one called out first.

"Have you found him yet, Mizuki?"

Then, the accent and way of speaking that thickened Sakuno's blood with cold: "We're going to run out of water and sports drinks at this rate, da ne. We haven't barely started to warm up and it's going away fast, da ne."

The dreams, the flashes of nightmares. Yanagisawa's cheerily goofy face, its charms overshadowed by the unfortunate pooching out of his lips that gave them the appearance of a water bird's beak, flashed before her. Kaidoh-senpai and others said he looked like a duck. Sakuno did not see it. She instead saw the hard, cruelly dull beak of a monster goose and the ribbed teeth within. Every time she saw Yanagisawa open that beak it she was amazed he did not hiss, did not try to poke and bite and lacerate her skin. The goose. Her childhood enemy. The bête noire!

"Yuuta, who's your friend here? Ah, wait, wait, don't tell me! She's the cook, right? Ryuuzaki Sakuno? They said her braids were hard to miss!"

He spun joyfully on his heel to reach her so he could clasp her hands. Sakuno rarely had seen anyone whose face brightened like his. The St. Rudolph's player was swept up as in a dream. His eyes were shiny flat coins of joy.

"It's so great to finally meet you up close, da ne. I think I've seen you at a match or two, maybe, but you always acted so shy."

"Y-Yanagisawa-san. Hello." Sakuno's panic transformed into something less heady, something heavier that settled down in the pit of her stomach and guts like cold glass. His joy was about to smother her. Yet now she was going to have to crush it down into a regret that would turn into a faint painful memory that would be less than nothing.

"Of course, that's understandable, da ne. I am an intimidating specimen. So shy that your friends from Hyotei had to give the message to me; that's so adorable, da ne! And Yuuta likes you. That makes you even better in my book."

"Yanagisawa-san." No—she could not cry like a baby or run away, though the urge was great. Sakuno never in her life would have imagined she would become the teacher of such a hard lesson. But there was nothing for it.

Swept up in his dreams, Yanagisawa kept on plowing ahead. To everyone's dismay he reached into his uniform pocket to withdraw a crumpled piece of paper. "I've been thinking about it a lot, Sakuno-chan. I always wondered how we'd meet some day, da ne. Sometimes I wanted to come over to Seigaku but they said you just needed to gather your confidence. I waited a while; long enough that I've been able to think about lots of things we could do together. I made a list!"

Kaidoh-senpai made a step forward, probably to take away Sakuno's burden and save her the unpleasantness. She shook her head at him. At the least she owed Yanagisawa the dignity of hearing the truth from her own mouth.

"Yanagisawa-san, that all sounds lovely. I hate to say this but, but, but" the ashen words burned and clogged her throat, "I am here to tell you that it's not true. The people from Hyotei spread untrue rumors. I know you're nice. But—I don't know you at all. And-and you scare me!"

Terrible silence rowed by. Many of St. Rudolph's players had their eyes closed, Yuuta looked trapped, and even Kaidoh seemed lost. Yanagisawa's entire stature seemed to have deflated by several centimeters.

"But they told me you liked me, da ne."

"I'm sorry, Yanagisawa-san. The people from Hyotei only told you that."

Yanagisawa turned his head into duckish profile. His one visible eye stared straight ahead and, as if he were wiping away some sweat brought on by the summer heat from his brow, brushed the heel of his hand against the other side of his face. The corner of his mouth stayed obstinately pulled down.

"It's just I thought you really liked me. For the first time, I thought a cute girl thought—oh, screw it."

Yuuta fidgeted with his hand, not hiding his discomfort. "Yanagisawa-senpai, are you crying?"

"Hell no, I'm not. Shut up, da ne," the reply came out on a rising blubber before it steadied itself.

Sakuno had felt deeply ashamed several times in her short life, but right at this moment she thought she was the lowliest piece of scum in the universe. The rational side of her knew that this had not been her doing, yet it was hard to take solace in that when an eighteen-year-old high school senior was on the brink of tears all because of you. Sakuno had never thought a boy could get hurt like she could get hurt sometimes; none of the boys she knew seemed like they would cry over anything, let alone a girl. Especially a girl like her.

"Oh, Yanagisawa-san, I'm really, really sorry," she began. Yanagisawa had already turned and was walking at a rapid pace down the walkway. "Leave me alone, da ne. Go away," he called back, not turning his head or hiding the break in his voice. Sakuno, her face prickling hot now, almost felt like crying herself.

Akazawa had turned his frown's full displeasure on her, his arms folded tight. "So what, did you come here to make my team member feel like crap?"

"So that was the plan all along. Even I've never made Yanagisawa cry," muttered Mizuki to himself. No one took any mind of him as Yuuta tried to intercede before things got too ugly and Sakuno and Kaidoh found themselves forcibly ejected from the premises.

"Buchou, she honestly didn't mean any harm. And it's not her fault. She didn't do anything. I feel really bad for Yanagisawa-senpai, but it was the Hyotei folks who lied."

Though she appreciated the support from Yuuta-kun, it did little to assuage Sakuno's misery. What was all of this for, she wondered; surely it was not to leave things in a shambles, a worse state than when all of this began. Something had to be done.

"Where are you going?" Kaidoh-senpai called after her, about to jog as she walked briskly down the path following Yanagisawa's trajectory.

"I need to talk to him, Kaidoh-senpai."

Akazawa gestured in a different angle than the one in which she was headed. "Well, you're going the wrong way. He headed towards the cafeteria. Yuuta, go with her and make sure she doesn't get lost."

Sakuno was too overwrought to try to forge her own path across the campus, so she accepted Yuuta's assistance. Neither spoke during the walk. It did not take them long to find the runaway. At her whispered request, Yuuta held back as Sakuno approached.

Yanagisawa, sitting in the middle of a path by a campus fountain, was plucking pebbles from the ground to cast them at other pebbles near his feet in some morose distraction. He flitted up his gaze at her arrival but did not hold eye contact. When Sakuno stood right beside him his posture hunched and he made no move towards acknowledging her.

It was strange how a simple difference in height, in position, could alter one person's perception of another. Being so petite and shy in her manner, Sakuno did not really know what it was to be able to literally look down upon someone, most especially an older boy. How could she maintain her visions of the boisterous goose-fiend Yanagisawa when he sat crouched on her feet in misery? The realization struck her so hard that Sakuno was unaware that he finally had lifted his head at her presence. His odd lips were pursed tightly.

"What do you want," he demanded.

Off-guard, she sputtered and stammered for a moment until a coherent sentence came out. "What are you doing on the ground, Yanagisawa-san?"

"Wasn't looking where I was going. Tripped and fell on my ass."

She thought that Yanagisawa would be more hostile, but his voice and face were flat. His eyes were a little red around the rims.

"Ah—here!" Unable to think of anything else to do, Sakuno and held out the sack, stiff-armed, to him. "They're adzuki." She prayed that Kaidoh-kun would forgive her and give her another day to make a new batch.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I don't want 'em."

"Please accept them, Yanagisawa-san, even if you won't eat them. I don't have anything else to apologize with, and I—I can't bear to leave things like this."

A sardonic quirk lifted his lips. "How about going on a date with me, da ne?" At her helpless, suffering glance he snorted and yanked the bag from her hand. "Fine. Gimme." Half a whole bun was promptly stuffed into the right side of his mouth and that cheek began to bulge out like a balloon as he gnawed at the snack with a will.

"Y'know, I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather you not play like you were a bodhisattva or some angel of mercy with me. Shoo. Get back to your snakey friend."

"Will you be all right?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it."

"I hope that we can be friends someday." Embarrassment decided to make her end the matter at that—all Yanagisawa was doing was stare at her with a blank face. She bowed her farewell to him and, after she rejoined Kaidoh-senpai, did the same for the rest of the St. Rudolph team. Yuuta escorted them out, repeatedly assuring her that Yanagisawa's ego was resilient, that it would bounce back in no time.

She truly wanted to believe him. "I really hope that will be the case, Yuuta-kun. I gave Yanagisawa-san some food; that usually makes things a little easier. It's better than being let off with nothing. Oh," she flushed at the realization. "I'm sorry, Kaidoh-senpai. I gave him the adzuki buns I made for you today. Come to the restaurant today or tomorrow and I'll give you some more."

Kaidoh's face grew even sourer, yet he did not voice his displeasure. "That's fine. Don't think Duck-face will appreciate them very much, though."

It only made her feel worse.

Since he too had a training session that day, Kaidoh-senpai followed her to a nearby bus-stop. He asked her no less than three times whether or not she was positive that this was the right place and that she could swear on her grandmother's soul that she knew the right bus number to take her home. When she had finally convinced him, her senpai shuffled his legs for a moment, then reached out his head to give her three rapid pats.

"Ryuuzaki—once again, you did all right today. You've made lots of progress. Tezuka-buchou will be glad to hear it. I think you'll be okay, and—fssh? Why are you laughing?"

He eyed her, almost nervous, as Sakuno's shoulders trembled under the force of her giggles. She could not stop herself. "You, you're pretty bad at this," she gasped, squinting up at him. "You don't know how to comfort girls very well, do you, senpai?"

It was not that she blamed him; she figured that the only things Kaidoh-senpai had ever petted and tried to reassure were stray kitties and puppies. She figured that for him, dealing with her was like asking a flautist to play the trombone: way out of his comfort zone.

"I'll be fine," she informed him once the giggles had flown away. "Thank you, Kaidoh-senpai, for your help. I'm much less nervous about what's going to happen now."

He nodded as he walked away slowly. Still looking back at her. "It was nothing. And Ryuuzaki, don't worry about Yanagisawa. He'll get over it. You gave him my snacks, after all."

Be that as it may, she thought when he finally left her by herself, her eyes following the flow of street traffic idly; there were some things that not even food could make right.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

A plan. A course of action. Some sort of emergency evacuation procedure. A smoke grenade and a helicopter. She could have used any one of these right now, sitting under the sun as her braids baked and her heart wanted to tumble down out of her ribcage from its own weight. Sakuno knew full well that it was a sad fact that she could not think on her feet very well. It was one of her dearest wishes that she could be as clever and resourceful and witty as her friends, but on the few occasions she did try to think of some scheme, it landed her in trouble or in the school counselor's office.

What to do? What was the next step?

Perhaps it would be best and easiest to wait, to see what Ryoma-kun and her senpai would do. It had been Ryoma-kun's bright idea to bring everything to a direct challenge, she thought petulantly. He had dug her deeper into this mess. Let him figure a way for her to go about it, then, if he was so smart! She was going about it pretty badly on her own.

Tempting as that sounded, Sakuno nixed her own suggestion. No one would want her to sit by doing nothing. Not her Grandma, not Tezuka-buchou, and especially not Ryoma-kun. She had to keep trying.

During her wait for the bus Sakuno's cell phone sounded its tinny beeps—her Grandma thought putting down money on a ring-tone was a most abject waste—and she sighed out an answer to Ann-chan's greeting. This automatically aroused suspicion.

"What's wrong, Sakuno-chan? And don't you dare hold out on me. If anyone from any school, those Hyotei brats or even your precious senpai, have been giving you a hard time-if they've got an ass, I'll kick it!" Ann was not one for beating around the bush.

"Not much, Ann-chan. I just spent my day crushing all the hopes and dreams in my wake is all."

Ann's soprano-pitched exclamation prompted Sakuno to explain the day's events, the surprise changing into ruddy indignation after all was revealed.

"Why those louse-ridden prissy twerps!" Ann's angry hissing gave Kaidoh's a run for the money. "Making you clean up their damage. I'm no fan of Yanagisawa, but what a ratty thing of them to do to him!"

"I know. That's why, Ann-chan, I..." A revelation! "I'm going to call Atobe today and arrange things as soon as possible. I can't keep on doing things like this. And Yanagisawa-san—he was crying. I can't stand it."

A fierce determination evident despite the slight scratchiness of the reception burned in Ann's voice. "That's the best thing to do, Sa-chan. I'm going with you. I've been pissed at Atobe ever since the jerk stole your grandma's food. If he isn't fair to you, someone needs to kick him in the balls. And I'm just the type of classy lady to do it."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

In spite of her insistence that Ann-chan did not have to go to such trouble, the two young ladies sat nestled on the steps of a library near Sakuno's apartment complex, waiting for Atobe's grand appearance. As this was a business affair, Sakuno had decided to dress up for the occasion; she wore one of her nicer floral-print dresses and, at Ann's suggestion, had her braids pinned up instead of hanging down. Ann kept on fussing over and adjusting both Sakuno's hair and clothes during the wait.

Now, it was good to have a friend for moral support but Sakuno had her reservations. There was little love lost between An-chan and Atobe. Three years had passed but Ann hadn't forgotten about the incident when she had nearly been forced on a date with him. Sakuno wondered if a desire for revenge hadn't played a part in Ann's decision to lend her moral support.

"Like I'd ever go out with that puffed-up peacock," Ann-chan muttered. Sakuno, having heard this rant several times before, tuned in with only half a patient ear. "I'd rather date that humongous brown cabana boy of his. At least Kabaji doesn't yap on all the time. I tell you, Sa-chan, you've got to watch out for that Atobe. He's from a big slimy business family; those people have tongues as nasty-slick as oil. Don't let him trick you into any sort of disadvantage!"

"I know, Ann-chan."

"I think this new business style is a perfect compromise for you. You get to keep the braids but you look so much more sophisticated. You look like Princess Leia! I still think you should cosplay as her one of these days."

These and other such admonishments Sakuno had also heard many times during their wait, so they had lost some of their force. Nonetheless, Sakuno primed herself to keep on her guard, to keep her inherent nervousness at bay as much as possible. She'd been through much worse than this, she kept reminding herself, and she could deal with Atobe in some fashion. Yet it was impossible to fully relax. Sakuno envied her tennis friends' ability to act so nonchalant under pressure, turn it to their advantage. Perhaps she was cursed with a freakish adrenaline that did the opposite of what it was supposed to, making her thoughts and deeds more sluggish and scattered. . .

A gleaming luxury sedan, its passenger windows tinted so dark that no one could see inside, took a sharp curve around the street corner. It halted before the steps and the girls arose as the Monkey King himself glided out, glancing at his watch.

"Ore-sama apologizes for the delay and now for the rush, but please accompany right away Ore-sama, Ryuuzaki-chan, so we can—" He finally spied An-chan. "Oh, hell no. What sin could Ore-sama have committed in a single lifetime to deserve this?"

"Good day to you too, Atobe." Ann's tongue dripped sugary sarcasm. Atobe gave Sakuno a displeased look and she shrugged in apology.

Rifling a hand over the back of his neck one time, Atobe, straightening his back, proclaimed: "Well, your attempt to stun and entrap Ore-sama in your devious web with this unpleasant surprise will not faze me. Ore-sama has come upon a sudden conflict of time schedules, so if you ladies would please come with Ore-sama to his summer home to discuss this pressing matter at our leisure—"

Sakuno regarded the lovely car with some alarm; she thought she could see other people in there, barest blobs of dark pitch against the window tint. Were they the other Hyotei team members? A kamikaze squad from his fan club? Tattooed bruisers from the Yakuza break her kneecaps? There was also the most pressing matter of all. "Atobe-san, I thought we agreed to meet in neutral territory. And it would be rude for us to impose on your hospitality like this. There is no need."

His normally unflappable eyes darted to check his watch again. "Yes, yes, Ore-sama apologizes, but like Ore-sama said, there has been a schedule conflict. This is the only viable option."

A familiar voice, Shishido's, came from the car. "Dammit Atobe, it's just a soap opera! It won't kill you to miss one episode! Just drop us off at the tennis courts so you two can talk over tea and crumpets or something."

Half of Atobe's face rose into a snarl that was very unbecoming indeed as he whipped around to poke his head through the passenger door. Sakuno didn't doubt that that an unspeakably evil glare was staring Shishido-san right in his face and she was thankful she did not have to witness it.

"It is not _just _a soap-opera, you philistine. It is a fine, engaging televised serial, Ore-sama's favorite of all time, and Ore-sama has been waiting an entire month, avoiding all news and gossip, for this season finale! And Ore-sama will not miss it, not even if a nuclear holocaust exploded all over Japan right this second! Any more complaints or insults of that fine drama from you, Shishido, and Ore-sama shall summon all the powers of tennis darkness, and you're off the regular team, soaking in your own shame—again! And that also goes for the rest of you. Do you all understand me?"

The sufficiently meek peeps in reply appeased him, and Atobe faced the young women again, his visage composed once more. "Ore-sama will ask only one more time, ladies. Please accompany us. Or else you will be left here, this Ore-sama promises."

Faced with such an ultimatum and terrifyingly fierce devotion to a daytime soap, Sakuno felt the best thing to do was accept the offer. Hardly the best circumstances for a conference, but Atobe looked very likely to make good on his threat. It would be unacceptable for her if she passed up this opportunity and no other chances at negotiating a solution on any of her terms came later. Resigned, Sakuno nodded and gestured for An-chan to follow, which she did, albeit sulkily. At least Atobe bowed for them and let them go first, something that Sakuno appreciated until she remembered she was no shorts underneath her skirt. Thank heavens Hyotei had more gentlemen than Yamabuki.

As the three tried to enter the car, Sakuno gaped at the realization that the other Hyotei members had completely occupied the passenger seats, custom made so that the two rows faced each other. It was crammed full as it was.

"Now what?" Gakuto demanded, hardly more pleased than Shishido at their playing second fiddle to a TV show. "There's no room for them, and you'll still miss the first minute of your little soap."

"Ore-sama's mighty brains have already designed a solution," Atobe replied with stiff dignity. "The girls will have to sit on someone's lap."

Sakuno groaned, face tingling. Ann-chan began to shriek in outrage but with a good push Atobe got her halfway inside, sending her sprawling over several boys' knees. With much wrangling they managed to seat her with Kabaji. Sakuno got in much more obediently and so was spared such treatment. To reward her (so Atobe said) she got to be seated on Atobe's lap during the journey.

Sitting across from her, Oshitari wiped his glasses. The action jostled everyone on his side. "I told you we should have taken the limo."

"Too conspicuous," Atobe proclaimed. Gakuto started to complain again about the cramped spaces and stupid TV soaps, Ann added to it, and soon everyone was arguing, trying to make peace (Choutarou), or sleeping (Jirou). Uncomfortable beyond belief, sitting on the very boniest edges of Atobe's knees while her own bumped against Hiyoshi's and Oshitari's, it became harder for Sakuno to breathe. On instinct, she reached for her cell phone to tap out a message for either her grandmother or Tezuka: BEING TAKEN BY HYOTEI TO WATCH SOAPS. SEND HELP.

The phone was snatched from her hand. "Nice try."

Atobe clicked it shut and stuffed it in her book bag. There was nothing to do but endure the sardine can of a ride and then an hour's worth of watching a show she had never seen starring characters she knew nothing about do things and concoct schemes that made no sense to her.

Soon enough they were all seated in one of the numerous sitting rooms in one of Atobe's many houses. From what Sakuno knew this suburban chateau hardly approached the splendor of the main mansion owned by the Atobe family, far outside the cramped Tokyo limits, but the house was still more spacious and opulent than she had ever experienced. It had taken them a whole two minutes two reach this room from the main hallway, following halls decorated with fine art and plush carpet. One wall in this room was dominated by a massive high-definition television with complete stereo-surround sound entertainment system and several game consoles. In the back, next to a small drink bar with refrigerator was a mahogany table used for informal conferences. In front of the television were a couch, posh leather recliners, and several leather beanbag chairs.

The girls and Jirou, because he was deemed the least threatening, took the sofa for themselves while Atobe pulled up the largest, most elegant recliner next to it. The show began and, just as she feared, Sakuno had no clue about what was going on; unlike her, however, Ann did not suffer in silence.

"This is stupid," she moaned. "My brother watched sentai shows better than this when he was a third year in elementary school."

Gakuto sprang to agree, slouching in his beanbag chair with his mouth skewed into an irritated line by the way his hand cupped around his chin to prop his head up. "Yeah. If anything, instead of this crap we could be watching a cool show like 'Angel Summoner and BMX Bandit'."

"That show sucks," snapped Shishido, already in full peevishness.

"Yeah," said Hiyoshi. "Oh look, Angel Summoner summons a horde of angels and saves the day again. _I was totally not expecting that."_

Ootori and Kabaji had been ordered by Atobe to act as the welcoming service for the girls and they were hovering around offering various treats from the large refreshment bar in the back of the rec room. Choutarou moved in an uncharacteristically frantic way and kept on trying to make peace between the two factions. "Come on, senpai-tachi; please don't start while we've got company here. We're not even watching that show."

Jirou blearily squinted at the proceedings. "At least it—and this show of Atobe's—are better than one of those Audrey Hepburn movie marathons." Oshitari's glasses gleamed in some wickedly sardonic way but Jirou only yawned. Well, Sakuno thought, when on foreign territory, perhaps it would be best to try and join in.

"I like Audrey Hepburn movies," she put forth. At first she thought no one had heard but Oshitari threw her a look that approved of her tastes. Jirou blinked at her, considering, and gave up any further contention.

"At least they're more entertaining than this. I don't see how buchou can watch it and do anything else besides sleep."

"Ore-sama's stupendous powers that your miniscule mental faculties cannot begin to comprehend are capable of many astounding feats. Ore-sama can easily negotiate and entertain himself at the same time! Now, let us get down to our business, Ryuuzaki-chan, while the commercials are on."

With An-chan giving her a brilliant, urging smile and a clasp on her knee, Sakuno forced her thoughts into a slow, deliberative pace. She had rehearsed her ideas with her some of her senpai, Ann, Tomoka, and even Ryoma the evening prior (thank goodness Eiji-senpai was a blabbermouth and had given her Ryoma-kun's new cell number! She had even been so focused on this meeting that she had hardly any qualms about calling Ryoma at all until it had been too late, and still she had stuttered only a little). They had given her suggestions and advice to further shape the plan into something presentable. Now was the time to lay it out.

In the beginning, she was still quite nervous and her fingers trembled along with her stuttering tongue. Despite his eccentricities, Sakuno knew from her sources that Atobe was a first-rate negotiator and judge of workable ideas; she had to be very clear and firm, yet ready to compromise on a few points. Her nervousness made her slip out a cheat-sheet of paper with the outline of her plans so she could keep her train of thought. So important were the notes that she had not even dared to stick them in her handbag—which could be misplaced—but she actually had stuffed the paper into one of the folds of her braids atop her head. Atobe and the other Hyotei team members smiled at that, but she thought it made good sense. She had yet to lose her braids, after all.

Then, in the middle of her piece, something fluffy and light-colored flopped right across Sakuno's lap. The end of her sentence trailed off into a squeak. Jirou had lost the battle with his borderline narcolepsy once more and had crashed-landed into a nap.

"Jirou-senpai, please stop that, you're making us look like jerks," Choutarou pleaded. He clutched the tray of snacks as a lifeline and kept on hesitating between going towards the girls' (plus Jirou) couch and his doubles partner. "Shishido-senpai, do something!"

"Yeah, he's a real perverted menace, all right." Shishido jerked his thumb at the cherubic face pillowed on Sakuno's lap. Jirou had curled his legs across Ann's knees. The girls shared a glance and, with an unspoken agreement, gave the dead weight a firm shove. Jirou hit the floor with a mighty WHUMP but he didn't break his sleeping rhythm at all; he just snored once more loudly than usual and then turned onto his belly. It was such a feat as Sakuno had never seen before.

"I hope he doesn't have some kind of brain problem," she whispered to Ann-chan, who only snorted and prodded at him with her foot.

"I think the whole darn school is a freak show, what with all the narcolepsy and the delusions of grandeur and the 'ossu' sycophancy and—" she waved her fingers at the general direction of the others, "whatever other deeply hidden psychoses these guys no doubt possess." Hiyoshi, Shishido, and Oshitari regarded her with apathy; Choutarou looked stricken to near-tears. Sakuno was about to praise the snacks he had brought as a means of comfort when Atobe crashed his fist down on his chair-side table. His face and eyes were set in grim displeasure.

"Tachibana, if you insist on insulting Ore-sama's team, interrupting his business, and _drowning out the dialog of his favorite drama with your infernal screeching, _Ore-sama shall have Kabaji fetch the unvanquishable duct-tape and _shut your trap for you_."

When Ann-chan called the bluff and said he wouldn't dare, Atobe gave one snap of his fingers to get Kabaji to stand and rifle around through a supply cabinet. Ann glared but said no more.

"N-now, as you know, Atobe-san, a few days ago my friend Ryoma-kun, my senpai and some of your schoolmates came upon a way to resolve this uncomfortable stalemate between our schools—"

"Echizen? Your friend?" barked out Gakuto, his grin crooked. "I heard you used to be over the moon for him."

Having heard all of this before, she had formulated a response that would hopefully cover up the deep embarrassment she continued to feel whenever this subject was brought up. Had she really been so soppy with her crush that everyone in the eastern prefectures knew about it? It would not surprise her if even major tennis schools in the west heard rumors (thanks to Kintarou-kun, though she hoped that his normal denseness meant that nobody took whatever gossip he spread seriously). Her back arched in a bracing position, fingers interlocked between her knees to keep from pushing the pointer fingers together or unconsciously teasing at her hair, she forced her eyes to give Gakuto an oblique glance.

"That was in middle school, but I like to think we are still good friends. Still, that's neither here nor there, Gakuto-san."

"Well, I don't see him or any other Seigaku people here. Where are they? You'd think the least they could do is be here for you. You could have done better than bringing along that Fudomine loser Tachibana's little sister." Shishido finished a swig of his soda with a grunt, its dismissiveness the event horizon that caused Ann's patience to snap. Her fingers clawed at the velvet upholstery the couch.

"Kippei's toenail clippings are worth ten of you," she snapped. Sakuno reached out to mollify Ann-chan but the damage was done. Ann plucked out a glistening ice-cube from the glass of juice Ootori had provided as a refreshment and launched it at Shishido's head. Shishido twisted his torso to dodge and Hiyoshi took the hit; he looked fit to spring out the chair into a full karate stance.

"Geez! That hurt. Atobe, tell me why you wanted to go on a date with this girl again? She'd kill you with a misaimed volley if the two of you ever played tennis together, her aim's so bad."

"Do you want me to get up in your business, 'Shroom-boy?" Ann demanded, waggling her fingers in a gesture for him to bring on whatever he had.

"You won't get up in my business, I'll get up in _your _business if I have to, Tachibana. And possibly _your grill!" _

"Ore-sama demands that you all be _quiet._ Can't you dunces see that Tsukiyomi is going to eat the poisoned fish meant for Iyoko? You're ruining the drama."

Though almost everyone had their nostrils flared with the lingering scent of heightened emotions, the hostility began to drop from its near critical-mass state. Sakuno still wanted to get in one last word in favor of Ann-chan, however, before Atobe managed to re-disengage himself from his TV drama to continue forming a strategy with her. Ann was doing her such a favor to come into territory such as this, where they both ran the risk of receiving insults, and Ann-chan had the disadvantage of not having Ryuuzaki Sumire as a family member. Despite their baiting Hytoei may have held respect for Tachibana Kippei, but for her grandmother they held something more powerful: pants-wetting fear.

"I am very glad that Ann-chan is with me. She's as good a friend to me as anyone else, including my senpai."

"Still don't see why some of them, at least Tezuka, didn't come."

"If I had asked, I'm sure he and some other would have, Shishido-san. But this is mainly my problem, so I wanted to settle it in my own way. It's the principle of the thing, you know." She was astounded by the unwavering lack of stutter in her words, a strange sense of calm at the improving mood making comfortable enough to tease them a little. "Perhaps I should have brought someone else, though. Maybe I should call up Grandma, see if she can come over."

"Not necessary, Ryuuzaki-chan," stammered Ootori. "I, for myself and on behalf of the entire team, beg pardon for any teasing that may have gone too far. You know how rival sports teams can be...we didn't mean anything by it...isn't that right, senpai?" He stood behind Shishido to gently nudge the back of his doubles partner's neck so that he started to bend down in something akin to a supplication pose. Whether Shishido was actually going to cave and speak an apology would remain forever a mystery as Ann, in triumphant glee, answered for him.

"That's right! So you can just sit and spin, you sour-pussed baldy."

Ann might as well have lit a firecracker under half of the Hyotei team's pants as Shishido, Gakuto, and Hiyoshi shouted in protest. Choutarou was gripping at his hair, overwhelmed, Oshitari wryly amused, and Jirou still asleep. Once again pushed to drastic measures, Sakuno cast all pretense of businesslike serenity away, leaning over to grasp the arm of Atobe's chair with wild desperation.

"Atobe-san, I cannot talk with you under these conditions! This is why I didn't want to meet in your own house. It's unacceptable!"

He gave her a curt nod. There was a snapping of fingers and a twitch of the head toward the hot-heads' direction, when in a sudden swoop Kabaji appeared behind them before they rushed the couch. Heads collided together like coconuts as Kabaji lightly—for him—knocked them one against the other. Much to everyone's dismay, Kabaji looked even grimmer than usual, and for once in a blue moon he uttered a full sentence.

"Atobe-sama told you all to be quiet. You are being very rude. He is very displeased."

"That's right, Kabaji. This circus has gone on long enough. Everyone except Ryuuzaki-chanan, out. All of you."

It was then that Sakuno realized why and how Atobe could lead his freak show of a team. The sudden change in his bearing, the sheer authority in his voice could not be denied, and the other players recognized it in an instant, though not without somee residual grumbles. Sakuno did not want Ann-chan to leave her alone with the megalomaniac, but her friend was being whisked away by the exodus. Gakuto prodded her along with pokes on her back, which earned him a sharp slap on his hand. The two began arguing heatedly at the door and Sakuno was afraid that the next time she saw one of them, they'd be sporting bruises. Shishido dragged Jirou out by the leg. Jirou

Oshitari halted at the door, his glasses winking in the light at her. "Don't worry about your friend. We'll make sure she doesn't injure Gakuto or Shishido too badly. And, Ryuuzaki-chan, I'm have no worries for you either. Our buchou is a fair man in business dealings, even if, as the French say, _il p__è__te plus haut que son cul._"

Sakuno only knew some cooking terms in French so she could not join in on the joke, but Atobe turned down his nose in offense. "Go away, Oshitari. Ore-sama would have you know that he never engages in such crass functions, and even if he did, it would be, as everything Ores-ama does is, a _glorious_ thing."

"You keep telling yourself that, buchou." He closed the door, leaving a moment of blissful silence and calm. Sakuno could have wept with relief.

The following negotiations were not nearly as dreadful as Sakuno had anticipated. She had prepared to steel her guts and keep her tongue squeezed up against the roof of her mouth to deal with the byzantine machinations of Atobe's ego, but he proved straightforward in his clarity. She laid down the gist of her plans, concocted with suggestions from her other friends; he responded in kind with his own terms and ideas. Best of all (to her) she didn't have to resort to bartering with food. She did not want to cook anything for him after what he did—it was only right to deny him.

Though they both were distracted by the goings-on of the television drama and the most productive moments were during the commercial breaks, they reached an agreement before the ending credits.

"Is that it for now, Atobe-san? Wow, I couldn't believe that Iyoko would sabotage Michiru's mecha-armor like that. Now Michiru won't be able to fight crime!"

"Yes. Let Ore-sama deal with the arrangements. You should only focus on preparing and providing for your supplies. Everything will be as neutral as Ore-sama can make them, but do not expect that Ore-sama can go out of the way to make things easier for you. And Ore-sama easily saw the wisdom of that move. It was for Michiru's own good since the armor was possessed by Wilford's restless spirit. Ore-sama does hope they bring back the crime-fighting sub-plots, though. They made the drama as cutting-edge as it is."

Sakuno had long given up on pointing out that everything that had happened resulted from his filching of her food; the cause had become quite moot. It still quite irked her, however. He shouldn't act imperiously if he could not dare to make outright amends and call the whole ridiculous one-sided feud off.

"Ah ah, don't pout now, Ryuuzaki-san. Such a sour look does not become you. Here, have some more refreshments."

He offered her a tray decked with delicate crème-filled pastries fashioned into the shapes of various animals. Sakuno took one that looked like a bear and, with a delicate bite, chomped off its head. It made her feel a little better.

"This reminds Ore-sama—Ore-sama never has gotten to sample your cooking. Tezuka speaks well of it and Ore-sama even has heard the brat say it's quite good."

"Ryoma-kun likes my food?" Sakuno leaned forward for confirmation. She had not seen him for a few days; he had probably dropped by when she had been off her shift.

"It appears so. Ore-sama chanced across the impetuous whelp a few days ago on a take-out run from Kawamura Sushi. He also said that Ore-sama would not appreciate it, as monkeys only enjoy bananas. Damn brat. Nevertheless, as Ore-sama was saying, since he did not have the opportunity to partake of the bento he purchased—"

'Stole and wasn't for you,' Sakuno corrected in her mind, but she did not dare say it aloud, although she wished that she could tell him what she thought just like Ann-chan or Tomo-chan could so easily. Most people only saw her overriding nervousness, not suspecting that she felt frustration and irritation just as keenly as anyone else, but she had always been taught to act by the expected rules of politeness.

What Sakuno could not stand, however, was her host's own lack of propriety. She had never really expected for him to make a public apology in front of his own teammates, let alone pay a visit to her humble house with his parents in tow to make amends, but the original wrong had been his own. Atobe had only to bow his head and admit his fault directly to her, express his regret; but he would never do that. That much was clear to her. Atobe reminded Sakuno somewhat of Ryoma-kun, and that distressed her. It had been difficult enough to deal with Ryoma's own brand of brusqueness. If only there were more gentlemen of propriety like Sanada—now that was a person, Sakuno was sure, who knew how to make proper Japanese apologies.

Atobe was staring at her, lost in her musings. Sakuno blushed deeply and murmured, "I'm sorry, Atobe-san. However, I did try to tell you that the food was for my grandmother."

"An infinitesimally rare mistaken assumption on Ore-sama's part, yes. However, Ore-sama does not apologize for assumptions. He can apologize on behalf of his...overzealous admirers, if you like."

How could it be that one person could be easy to get along with when discussing plans and then become so exasperating that she wanted to burst out into tears while strangling him with her own braids? Sakuno settled on closing her eyes, putting her little shy smile on her face, and count from five backwards. Lovely images of her Tezuka-buchou soundly thrashing Atobe in a tennis match while Ryoma-kun lobbed tennis volleys at that oh-so-perfect head and her grandmother and Fuji-senpai gave him the mother of all wedgies soothed her nerves.

"I see, Atobe-san." That was all she needed to say to convey her dissatisfaction. Noticing this, the conversation turned back to bargaining. He gave her a winning, gleaming smile.

"But just so you know, Ore-sama's offer of a date filled with nigh-perpetual indulgence still stands. Ore-sama never did receive a reply from you. Ore-sama's schedule is booked for a while, but once things do blow over, Ore-sama would like to try to do something to make up your trouble for you, Ryuuzaki-chan. And Ore-sama promises, once you have accompanied him on a date, all of this difficulty will seem worth the effort."

"I'm very sorry, Atobe-san, but I can't date until I'm sixteen."

"Ore-sama's patience is unmatched."

"My grandmother would insist on accompanying us at all times."

Atobe's impeccable groomed eyebrow twitched. "A problem—but Ore-sama could endure."

"I have no really expensive clothes and Ryoma-kun says my hair is ridiculous. I'm not nearly fashionable enough for you."

He leaned forward across the table to squint at her as if she were some kind of exotic bug that defied classification. "It sounds, Ryuuzaki-chan, like you are trying to dodge out of the issue. Refusing a date with Ore-sama, the dream and highest aspiration for any girl (or boy) at Hyotei High—no, the world? Ore-sama is simply baffled by this."

Since Atobe was in the habit of bestowing 'gift-dates' on any female who caught his attention (he felt it was his charitable obligation to that half of society), Sakuno had received warning about needing to deal with it from her Tezuka-buchou. She had formulated a suitable response. She lowered her eyes demurely and blushed in self-deprecation.

"Well, Atobe-san, you must realize that people who haven't gone to the Hyotei schools can't fully appreciate your looks and style. Your handsomeness, money, tastes—they're too dazzling for me! It's too rich for my blood. No, I'll have to settle for second-rate boys if I ever date."

He stopped to consider this. "Yes, Ore-sama can understand your sentiments. He is a most intimidating specimen." He quirked an eyebrow. "However, that sounded like a scripted response to Ore-sama. You're hiding something."

Ah, despite his occasional delusions of grandeur, he was quite perceptive. Blushing even more deeply, Sakuno simply wanted to find a good conversation-stopped so that she and Ann could go on home. It was too strange talking with Atobe about her own personal life. Stammering again, she tried to come up with a suitable response and blurted out the most embarrassing thing.

"I'm sorry, Atobe-san, it's just th-that: I like someone else. I didn't want to say it to you, b-but..."

"Ha! Ore-sama does not miss these things." He leaned in like a cat for the kill, an odd smirk on his lips. "Who is it? Surely he is inferior to Ore-sama, but no matter." His nostrils pinched. "Don't tell me it's still that Echizen brat. You could do so much better."

She couldn't stand that smug look of triumph on his face and she wanted to throw him a curve ball. Her dignity was at stake here. Her grandmother always said she needed to stop being such a pushover, to retain her poise so she wouldn't be bullied as much...she wanted to put him off-guard for once. She did her best to put a placid look of longing on her face.

"Well, Yukimura-san from Rikkai does have the better hair, I admit. I love how silky and shiny it is in the pictures. Ryoma-kun doesn't pay nearly so much attention to his own hair as he should."

"Are you telling Ore-sama that the main point you judge males by is their _hair?_ Then you should have always been drooling over Ore-sama! His hygiene is unmatched! His hair is far superior to Yukimura's!"

Sakuno returned his indignation with a helpless shrug and a confused pout. His frown turned to smile indulgently at her while he reached across the table, patting her head. His eyes held something like pity in them, like she had gone insane. "Ore-sama cannot account for taste, poor Sakuno-chan. He only hopes this delusion will pass. And one day, Ore-sama swears, he will taste your cooking. You cannot stop Ore-sama. Ore-sama will even hire you to be his personal chef for a day if he has to. If the food is not as good as others have described, you will be fired so fast your braids will whip about your head like little helicopter blades and you become airborne!"

If he were more familiar to her, Sakuno would have blown him a nice raspberry to scorn his threat. Decorum and politeness won out once more, however, and she only giggled again. He then invited her to stay a bit longer and sample more of the luxuries of the town house—even generously allowing her to 'keep that harpy-mouthed friend of yours around too'—but she declined. With plans out on the table and about to go underway Sakuno suddenly felt drained. She was not up to the task of braving the rocky diplomatic waters of keeping Ann polite while making sure Choutarou didn't have a nervous breakdown and making sure that Jirou did not crash into her or Ann's boobs during one of his fits.

"Perhaps someday Atobe-san, when this is all blown over," she said. He did not press the issue further.

It did not take long to find Ann and the other Hyotei regulars in another nearby recreation room, this one furnished with a ping-pong table. An was currently volleying balls at Shishido's head while everyone else except Jirou (asleep) and Choutarou (wringing his hands) egged her on in their own way. Goodbyes were exchanged and Choutarou escorted them through the winding halls to the car that would take the girls home. Ann-chan expressed joy at the news that a resolution had been reached, clasping an arm around Sakuno's shoulders to squeeze her.

"I knew you could do it, Sakuno-chan. See? All your hard work is paying off."

"I hope so, Ann-chan. To tell the truth, it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Atobe-san can be pretty reasonable." She puffed out her cheeks. "Still, dealing with him can be—er, draining."

"Tell me about it," said Choutarou. "But I'm glad that things are working out, Ryuuzaki-san. You're holding up well." He opened the car door for them and the girls began to clamber in. He gave Sakuno something of an odd look as she passed by him, as if wanting to say something but afraid to give it voice. She peered up at him with an uncertain smile.

"Is there anything wrong, Ootori-san?"

He fidgeted. "It's silly."

"You can tell me anything, Ootori-san."

His glance bounced from her face to his feet. "Well—it's just that, Ryuuzaki-san, when this is all over and you have time to think about other things and can process everything—"

"Yes?"

"Please don't sue."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

After supper that evening, sprawled out on the sofa, Sakuno found herself vacillating between moments that brought rushes relief and then absolute panic. She could now see the end of her current troubles, just as a marathon runner could finally see the finish line of the race far-off though it was; still, the very prospect of failure nearly crippled her poor nerves. To work so hard, to jump through such hoops and only lose to her tormentors gnawed through her. Not only that, but dealing with Atobe was truly exhausting. So many details and worries tilted her mind on its axis and she just wanted to sleep right there so they would disappear for a few hours. But the very spinning in her head allowed her no rest.

Her phone chimed nearby, the sofa's armrest reverberating with its hum. With some foreboding, Sakuno opened up the pink butterfly-stamped cover to receive a message that, even from the first words, could only have been from Eiji-senpai.

_Saku-chan!_

_We all loved Kaidoh-kun's bandana he wore yesterday! So cute! :3 :3_

_Get me one too? Please?_

_Momo-kun really thought it was nice too. It made him so happy he kept on talking to Kaidoh-kun about it all through practice!_

_Goodnight and hugs from your most favorite Eiji-senpai!_

Taking in the message, Sakuno closed her phone, feeling wearier than ever; it was as if receiving such energetic missives from Eiji-senpai made her crash from an electronic sugar high. In addition to being stuffed into a luxury sedan and riding on Atobe, having Jirou-san crash-land into her lap, breaking a boy's heart and confronting a chain-smoking ex-delinquent the day before, she had now effectively destroyed Kaidoh-senpai's reputation. Time to ring up Guinness, this had to be a new record for her.

Really, she sighed heavily as she put her head under a pillow, there were only so many times a person could ask 'Why me?' in a lifetime; she figured she had hit her quota by now.

She also figured she must have been Stalin or Genghis Khan in a previous life to be dealing with these things.

"Sa-chan, you seem out of sorts. Is everything all right? You acted so cheerful during supper," her grandmother asked from afar. Sakuno groaned into the pillow. Supper. Food. Cooking. Her arrangement with Hyotei. It never ended!

All the praise she had ever received for her cooking flew out of mind and sight. She knew she had talent, yet her relative lack of experience under pressure troubled her greatly. Her lack of regional diversity didn't comfort her either; she knew only the barest thing about French or Italian or German dishes and nothing about cuisine from Spanish-speaking countries. Her experience was more traditional, and she hadn't acquired the skills yet to do truly gourmet Japanese dishes.

What to do? What could she do?

Then, in a revelation from the heavens, she figured out what she could do.

Her grandma was ensconced in the corner recliner, her unsuspecting face having been focused on a book's pages until a few seconds prior. Silently, not making a peep in her movements, Sakuno scooted along the floor as she flopped ungracefully off the sofa, right knee and elbow tentatively following the left over the rough carpeting. She peered up.

Sakuno flung her arms around those warm knees of those venerable legs in their venerable slacks and socks with the kitties embroidered on them, nearly making her grandmother rocket out of the chair. Fumbling with the book, the redoubtable old dame stared down in affectionate exasperation at the creature hugging her legs and staring up with great dewy eyes.

"Grandma, great one, my most favorite relative, most beautiful old lady and best and wisest coach of all time," Sakuno began, but her litany was broken when her grandmother brought the book lightly crashing down on top of her head.

"That's enough of that, Sa-chan. Now, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask: can we go visit Aunt Natsuko sometime soon? I mean, soon soon?"

"And why," her grandmother asked with the most piercing glare as she leaned over, arms resting on her knees, "do you want to see your Aunt Natsuko? You never were so keen to do it before-you're up to something. I read you like the newspaper, darling."

"Grandma, I need to know how to cook."

The book came down on the crown of her head with a gentle thump. "Sa-chan, you've said some silly nonsense before in your life, but this is the topper. What on earth makes you, a virtual apprentice to a gourmet sushi restaurant, the girl who has baked every week for the Seigaku regulars and never brought home leftovers, think that you can't cook? Honestly!"

At length Sakuno explained that she enjoyed her time with the Kawamuras and was learning much, that her skills were greatly improving, but that she wanted to expand her range. "I love cooking Japanese food and pastries, Grandma, but I want to do more. But I don't know anyone who knows foreign food well enough who can really teach me." Her face with its cat-grin gave her attempt at slyness away. "Well, there's one person I know."

Her grandmother's face faulted a bit in surprise. "If you're suggesting what I think you are, Sa-chan—"

"You got it, Grandma! I'd love to go see Auntie Natsuko. She's the best chef in the family. I could learn a lot from her."

"I always thought you were a bit scared of her. Not that I totally blame you for that, but still!"

"How could I be, Grandma? She's kind of like you!" Sakuno nuzzled her face against her grandmother's legs as she earned herself another gentle blow on the head with the book. "Ow. You can't keep me from telling the truth, Grandma. I shall not be chained! Besides, it would be nice to get out of Tokyo and go somewhere else for a little vacation. I have Tanabata week off, you know. And the doctors say it's good for you to do some light traveling."

Sumire paused in contemplation, helping to scoop up her granddaughter from off the floor into her wide lap. Sakuno laid her head on her grandmother's shoulder. It may not have been a good sign for the development of her teenage independence, but she felt that she would never become tired of her grandmother's warmth or the scent of jasmine perfume wafting from her bosom. There was nothing but softness and warmth.

"I suppose we can do that. Your aunt could use the help to prepare for the Tanabata festival anyways, and she'd enjoy the company. She tends to get too stressed when there's a big event that she has to cater coming up. And Kanagawa's festival is famous for its authenticity. She's such a perfectionist about it—"

"So can we go then, Grandma, please? Before the big Tanabata rush? I'll do my absolute best to help Aunt Natsuko out. It'll be such good practice, too!"

There was a long pause. Their eyes met and Sakuno tried to make her face as round and shiny as possible—it was the quickest way to melt her grandmother's heart. Sumire blinked down at her, swallowed, and finally spoke.

"Fine, fine. I'll call Natsuko before I go to bed. If she says yes, we'll start to pack tomorrow, go to the bus station, get tickets, and pay your auntie a holiday visit. Heaven knows she could use the decent human company for once."

_COMING UP NEXT: An adventure in Kanagawa! Sakuno receives instructions from a woman who would make Iron Chef Morimoto cry like a little girl. A wicked trick! Can Sakuno survive an outing with some familiar faces? Will the Ichinen Trio be able to take a picture of Sakuno with her hair down? Will they get beaten up by Kirihara? Can Sakuno leave town without getting engaged to Marui Bunta?Will the author stop asking these pointless questions?_

_Tune in next time!_

_PS: 'Angel Summoner and BMX Bandit' comes from a very funny skit on a BBC show called "That Mitchell and Webb Look." I think it would feel right at home in Japan. See some clips here: .com/watch?v=sbzUfV3_JIA_


	8. Adventure 8: The Portrait of a Family

_Only three months between updates instead of two years! Improvement!_

_But here are two chapters for the price of one. This was originally all one chapter, but it became so massive that I thought it best to split it up. We don't need another Chapter 7. Ick. Also, since it has come to my attention that my sentence structure can be a nightmare to read, I've tried to make things a bit simpler while retaining a style I'm comfortable with. I can be rather Germanic in sentence structure and I'm sorry if things can be hard to read. _

_Be warned, this chapter has an OC, though she really only appears this one time and is necessary for plot reasons. Also, this chapter is less humorous than normal near the end. There is a heavy theme in this chapter and it pops up again in the next one. However, the WACKINESS pops up again later. _

_Rikkai Dai again! I hope I did them justice. I hate shafting some of them, but that's the price with huge casts; some people overshadow the others. I'm only sorry I couldn't give Yagyuu and Jackal more focus, but it'd just weigh things down. I also apologize if I really screw anyone up, especially Yukimura. I wanted to get a mixture of Yukimura's sweet, perfect persona and his magnificent 'win at all costs' one. He's a monster! He's an angel! He's-aaargh! WHO CAN UNDERSTAND HIM?_

_I also apologize in advance for the indignities heaped upon Sanada. Sakuno needs the company._

_Finally, I thank everyone again for their kind reviews, critiques, and support of this story. As always, I am grateful._

SAKUNO ADVENTURE #8: THE PORTRAIT OF A FAMILY

Fortune might wax and wane like the moon, as the famous poem goes, but there was always one time when bad luck would never fail to clutch events in its toilsome coils: the Ryuuzaki family trip out of town.

For this particular holiday jaunt Sakuno had lost a shoe, the hairdryer was on the fritz, her grandmother suffered a leg cramp that laid her down for a good fifteen minutes, and Sakuno remembered almost too late that she had a delivery of adzuki buns to deliver for Kaidoh-senpai. They missed their bus to Kanagawa. The sun baked them and basted them with their own sweat in the mid-morning heat.

Nearly an hour later two sweaty, red-faced ladies sporting identical pouts stumbled up onto a bus crammed near to the gills. The only way they could sit together was to shuffle to the very back seat. Said seat already held an occupant who had made himself completely at home, sprawling out to take up half of the entire bench, hardly aware of the two females looming over him. At the sight of that familiar mop of crimped, shiny hair, Sakuno forgot the wet itches along her face and back. Finally, luck had turned her way. She had a friend to counterbalance her other cranky seatmate.

"Akaya-kun!" she chirped, not noticing until the words had been uttered that he was still sleeping. She moved to give him a few gentle shakes and prods but her grandma, having no patience for delicacy, was faster.

"Oi! Move over!" Her grandmother's hand came crashing down with a terrific slap right on Kirihara's thigh. Ripped from their rest his limbs flailed as if he had gotten a live current put through him.

"No, fukubuchou, not the bokuto again—I'll be good, I'll—" He frowned, eyes still fuzzy with bewilderment. "What the hell, ya old—" He sniffed, brows knitted at the smell of hot pavement, sweat, and adzuki paste emanating from them.

T he full force of a patented Ryuuzaki Sumire stare quelled any further protests; he obediently scooted over, hands held up in surrender. He may have been impetuous but he was no fool. He had seen enough of the Seigaku coach in action at various invitational camps to know not to tempt the cobra. Sakuno, though not pleased that Akaya-kun would insult her grandmother, felt sympathy for him. Even Tezuka-buchou flinched under her grandmother's hard-eyed, implacable-mouthed stares in her rare moments of deepest displeasure.

When her grandmother slumped into the seat, fanning at her blotched face, Sakuno slid in next to her with a handkerchief and water bottle. Poor Kirihara had been rattled around as if he had been stuffed into a garbage can and kicked down a hill, so she leaned over to wave at him.

"Saku-bunny!" His wrath and confusion shifted into a beaming grin, his body also inclining towards her. He had his face fully gripped, bowling-ball like, in a sweltering palm for his trespass.

"Who are you to call my granddaughter a bunny, Kirihara?" She looked to her granddaughter with slitted eyes. "Is 'bunny' some kind of newfangled slang? Does he know about your birthmark?"

"_No, _Grandma. I'm sorry, Kirihara-san. Grandma's tired and we've had trouble getting here. Don't mind her."

As the bus jolted along the street they made to settle more comfortably into their seats. Her grandmother leaned back with a sigh; her eyes closed and Sakuno wiped a cool handkerchief against those ruddy old cheeks. Meanwhile Kirihara fidgeted around in fits and starts; he eyed the chasm between them and then darted his gaze back to her grandmother. Sakuno saw that he was a boy that was not accustomed to restraining himself but that her grandma proved a formidable check on his impulses. In order not to disturb the sentinel, Sakuno shifted her body to lay her head across her grandmother's lap, braids spilling every which way. It brought her more comfort than sitting and it allowed them to catch up in unobtrusive conversation.

After a few minutes of on and off small talk, the both of them drifting off with the lullaby motion of the bus, Akaya-kun (as he once again insisted on being called after she addressed him as 'Kirihara-san' one too many times) poked at her forehead, then brushed at her face with the ends of her own braids. They had not spoken for a few minutes and without his confident chatter Sakuno had faded off into silence, staring at the back of the seat in front of them with no focus. She had contemplated her situation back home. The hardest part was still left. Going to Kanagawa would not let her escape her troubles. She could go off hundreds of miles away and she could not shake them off. It was such that even a boy like Kirihara, self-absorbed in his youth, could notice the small dark rings forming under her eyes from lack of relaxation.

"Hey. You doing all right there, Saku-bunny?"

She realized she had slipped up. "I'm doing just fine, Akaya-kun. Like I said, it's just that we had _a _morning, let me tell you."

Her braid-tips hovered close to her nose in warning. "Oh no, don't think you can get away with giving me the cold shoulder. I read you like the funny papers. Something's bothering you."

When he did not get any encouragement, he started guessing at random. He was not an unintelligent boy, so he hit the mark in short time after ruling out aliens or food poisoning.

"Those bullies again, eh? I thought they'd be smart enough to leave you alone, but I guess my senpai and I weren't rough enough with 'em. Well, don't you worry, Saku-bunny. Next time, Niou-senpai and I will come up there, sneak into their place and _smash it up_. Then we'll find that jackass Atobe and shave him balder than a jellyfish."

"No thanks, Akaya-kun. I have it under control, I do. I just hate all this waiting. I can't help but worry about it."

Her companion tilted his head, squinting his eyes in deep thought. "Sounds rough. And it doesn't make you look cute at all. But don't worry, Saku-bunny. While you're in my town, I'm gonna do my best to make sure you don't explode. This can't be good for your nerves, you know." Bright green irises pinged open in revelation. "You'll be at the festival?"

"Yes, I'll be there for sure, Akaya-kun. My aunt's going to be working some food booths there."

"That's great, I'll be there too." He stuck out his tongue in distaste. "I have practice as well, but fukubuchou always makes me attend at least one festival a year. Says he wants to instil the 'proper cultural spirit' in me or something like that—it's stupid. He and Buchou—he'll probably be there—have me on leash for a about an hour, but then he lets me go, so then I'll come by and see you. We can hang out together. It'll be fun."

Sakuno had not been keen on milling about in a festival crowd with no one she knew-she doubted her aunt could spare herself while running the booth and her grandma would probably enjoy some free time alone, maybe even a nip of sake or two. Akaya-kun would be good company; was funny and filled with silly stories. He apparently did not find her too annoying, so she felt that she needn't worry about any temper tantrums that would send her to the hospital.

"I bet it will be. That sounds good, Akaya-kun."

"Great. I'll call you when I'm at the festival to find you. I know where all the best arcades are. Hope you're good at karaoke!"

They reached out to clasp their hands in gleeful expectation of the promised fun to come. Then a swift smack sent Akaya's hand flying back as he hissed and rubbed at his wrist. Sakuno could not help but be impressed; her exhausted grandma had hit dead center without even cracking open her eyes.

"Not on my watch, Seaweed."

Sakuno prayed that the snappishness wouldn't last for much of the rest of the trip, if only so that Akaya-kun would disembark in one piece. Inauspicious beginnings rarely ended well.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

After they arrived at their stop, Sakuno and her grandmother searched for the right block. Hot air blew against their faces, not a sluggish heat but one charged with energy and anticipation that set her heart racing. An eventual turn lead them onto a walkway which pointed up to the small, pleasant house which guarded her aunt from world, or perhaps vice-versa.

Many families have their black sheep, the shady member who is generally not talked about in polite company because he or she is just too weird, crazy or embarrassing to have their existence justified. Such was Aunt Natsuko's place in Sakuno's family.

Natsuko was not a Ryuuzaki, being the sister of Sakuno's mother, but the other side of the family did not act fond of the woman either. The last time Sakuno had gone to a big family get-together, back when she was still in elementary, Natsuko had made a bad appearance. She had also said some things to the other adults that Sakuno hadn't understood. The other adults had made a stir and then Auntie had stormed out. It was the last time she had seen her aunt in person.

Later on her grandmother told her that Natsuko would probably never again be invited to any other family events, nor would she have come if she were. The words, the falling-out and her aunt's absence had confused Sakuno. The few times she had seen and talked with Auntie the lady seemed nice enough, though loud and brash; perhaps that was why she only got along well with Grandma.

"Your Aunt isn't a bad sort," Sumire had told her afterward with a sigh over some sake when Sakuno prodded further on what had made the other family members dislike her. "But she likes to go her own way and isn't good at socializing with people. She was better when your mother was still alive—they were very close, you know. I don't like it, but there's not much I can do."

"Then why did she come?" Sakuno had asked. Her grandmother had put an arm around her and drawn her close.

"Remember, she and your mother were very close. She likes both you and me and wants to keep in touch with us. But she never did get along very well with the others besides your parents and me."

"Why not?"

"You saw how she is. Your Auntie isn't—well, she just isn't as normal as most people want her to be, I think. She's very self willed and too direct much of the time. I know it sounds strange and silly, but lots of things are strange and silly. I think it bothers the others."

"But you're not that polite either sometimes, Grandma."

That got a laugh out of her grandmother just as she was about to take another sip of her drink. After a little sputter, Sumire had barked out: "Well, they were right. And I guess that's why I don't mind your Auntie either. The family already has me. I'm more than they can handle!"

Sakuno tried to keep the memory of those words to brace her shying spirits when they walked up to the front door.

At her grandmother's ring the door was swung open with such force that, though it swung towards the inside of the house, Sakuno could feel the wind of it and jumped back. A tall, sharp-eyed and sharp-faced woman with graying hair swept up in a formless quasi-bun that made Sakuno's own carefully braided hair cry out in protest stared down at her. The lady cradled a mixing bowl in the crook of one arm and stirred its contents with vicious rapidity. Droplets splattered onto her apron, which had a picture of Chef Gordon Ramsey with the words YOU STUPID DONKEY written under his chin.

"This had better be _very _important," snapped Auntie Natsuko. "I'm busy playing Tanabata-nanny for the hardest-assed man in this town, so—" As she regarded the saucer-eyed girl in front of her, there was a blink of recognition. To stall for time as she thought of something to say, Sakuno performed a little curtsey.

"Hi, Auntie. I'm Sakuno. We haven't seen each other in a while."

Behind her, her Grandma set down the bags, folded her arms and gave a tilted smile to the younger woman. "You didn't forget we were coming, did you, Natsuko?"

Aunt Natsuko grinned, then broke into a full, deep laugh as she reached the hand with the spoon up to touch her forehead. Batter splattered onto her hair. Here Sakuno noted with some alarm that the index finger of her aunt's right hand was missing its tip, right down to the end of the joint.

"Oh, damn me for a busybody," cried Natsuko, now blithe as the summer sky. "I had marked down today on my calendar and everything, but I've been cooking so much today for that damn slave driver I just forgot. Sorry about that. Oh, little Sakuno-chan, you're so cute now! It's been ages. I'm happy to see both of you…come on! I'll show you where you'll be staying. Come in, come in!"

The two were ushered in to a comfortable house redolent with years' worth of feasts, spices, and cat hair and settled in the spare bedrooms upstairs that belonged to two of Sakuno's cousins who were no away at university. Then the three spent an hour in the living room to talk while three little wary cats crept in and out of the room. They sat upon mismatched but well-made furniture sipping glasses of lemonade blended with crushed ice, the chill heavenly to heated flesh.

Quickly Sakuno fell into two minds about her aunt. Auntie was so open and brash in her inelegant speech that she acted more like a foreigner—exactly like an American, if all the manga and anime she had watched hadn't led her astray. Yet no one, not even Taka-san, had ever smiled at her with such welcoming knowledge when she hesitantly asked about how the cooking business went. That devolved into a discussion on favorite celebrity chefs. To distract their host from breaking out the Hell's Kitchen DVD volumes ("He's not the greatest chef, but he has the right personality," her grandmother mentioned Sakuno's apprenticeship and talents.

"Yes, I've heard you're showing quite some promise. And if I'm remembering correctly, Sakuno-chan, then you said you'd be willing enough to help me out. Don't need the help, but I could sure as hell use it."

"She's not a professional, but she's getting training in a real restaurant and certainly wouldn't be a hindrance. Sa-chan learns new cooking techniques quickly." Sumire had said. Sakuno nodded, face bright and hopeful; she had an intimation right in the marrow of her bones that grand things could happen here. Auntie Natsuko gave her an appraising glance and Sakuno almost tried to bat her eyes and clasp her hands together to make her more winsomely eager to help, but that was so childish.

"Fine," her aunt acquiesced, "let's see what you can do, sweetie. It's almost time for me to start cooking supper; I have a few more preparations for the festival I want to to finish this evening as well. I'll show you the kitchen."

The kitchen that Sakuno set foot in was hardly a kitchen to her, but rather an earthly manifestation of Paradise.

It was almost as big as the living area, and pots, pans, and utensils and cooking machines off all varieties and uses were either laid out or to be found later stowed away in cabinets. Though trays of traditional pastries laid all around and large pots of noodles boiled on the twelve-burner stove range, everything was in good order; hardly any mess could be found on the counters despite the masses of foods and ingredients lying about in their carefully sorted piles. Sakuno counted six conventional ovens, a tandoor oven, a brick wood-burning pizza furnace and four kitchen islands—it was almost like the cooking stations in an actual restaurant. There several full knife sets carefully placed in their holders and blenders and food processors of the highest quality and so many specialized utensils, shelves upon shelves of cookbooks…oh! It was almost too much!

"I see you like it." Natsuko purred and stroked one of the ranges just as a man would lovingly palm a prized Lamborghini.

Sakuno could only sigh with envy. "If it only had a bed, I could live here! I want to have my wedding here."

They began to collect the ingredients for dinner. Natsuko said that she was currently on a Southwestern American cuisine kick, rattling off the names of cuisine styles Sakuno was only passing familiar with—Jalisco-style, Sonora-style, Tex-Mex, and the like. That evening they would dine on Baja fish tacos, crunchy and tangy with a fruit salsa, and a cinnamon-dusted flan for dessert.

Sakuno thought that her euphoria on finding such a perfect kitchen would not die so quickly, but watching her aunt peel and slice through the fruits and handle the fish twisted. She was not a proud person about many things; she certainly couldn't say anything special about her other hobbies, especially tennis. The only thing she had felt that she did well—sometimes very well—was her cooking. She had been so happy to enter on her apprenticeship, she felt such happiness when one of her friends' eyes lit up when she presented them with a bento or sweet she had made herself or when the Home Ec teacher praised her. But her aunt blew all of her accomplishments into dust. The knives flashed and cut in an effortless expertise that Sakuno knew she could not match in years.

Their mutual chatter stopped. Sakuno carried out her aunt's requests without a word and Natsuko, falling into form, muttered an occasional curse-filled rant when the oil for frying the fish seemed too hot or when a piece of fruit fell from the cutting board onto the immaculate floor. The way she talked, it was like Auntie treated the kitchen and food as if they were actually sentient beings and could be cowed by a torrent of insults.

"Do you have to curse so much, Auntie?" Her simmering resentment gave an edge that Sakuno was too slow to catch and cover up. Natsuko only rolled her eyes, unruffled, without missing a beat in her chopping.

"Oh please, sweetie. If you want to get into the restaurant business you'll hear lots more of the same. You have to show the food who's boss. You must crush it so it bends to your will! You're a girl in high school. You've surely heard this kind of talk before. Please tell me you aren't so sheltered."

"Not that much, though my best friend Tomo-chan can—never mind. And at the Kawamura restaurant, they never swear or say any rude things, not even when it gets busy."

"Sounds like a bunch of pansies," Natsuko snorted. "Trust me, if you have any hope of making it in a restaurant you better get used to it quick. What with the sous chefs bugging you and the owner screaming at you to get your ass in gear while the guests want their food in less than fifteen minutes and still presented so nice and pretty to them and you're juggling three dishes at once while your goddamn ex-husband is sitting out there with some goddamn floozy while you're trying to get his kids into a good university—ah, life on the edge! And I tell you, the edge is a fickle hellcat. It's why my doctor told me to work on home catering."

A beat later she turned away from her station, hands on her hips, as a knowing smile crawled across her lips. "Oh, I see the problem. Saku-chan, do you know how many years I've been in the restaurant and catering business? Longer than you've been alive. And really, how long has your grandma let you use real knives and work with hot oils when you cook? I know you used to be the clumsiest little thing."

"About three years," Sakuno mumbled. Her aunt come over to give her shoulders a hearty embrace and rest her cheek on top of Sakuno's head. "See, then? I'm a professional, sweetie. I can practically do this stuff in my sleep. You'll be able to do it, too, when you get lots more practice. Don't feel embarrassed. You're actually doing quite well for someone who's never touched these kind of dishes. Tell me, though, what kind of cooking are you best at?"

"I'm best at baking and sweets," she admitted. With a nod her aunt held up two fish-shaped molds and asked if she could make taiyaki for the festival tomorrow. "Oh yes, I've done it often. My Eiji-senpai really likes them. He sometimes pretends to be a cat and that he's stolen a fresh fish from the market—"

"Sounds like a freak. But good, this'll start you out just fine. After you make ten of these, you can come down in the morning to help me chop some vegetables. I'm going to make _okonomiyaki __for the_ festival and I want to have the ingredients right on hand before we leave. And how about you make the flan for tonight, sweetie? I'm sure it'll be no trouble for you and I want to see how you really are at work. Then, while you're here—pizzas. I think you'd be good at making pizzas."

As they continued to work and ramble on, the missing end of her aunt's finger kept on luring Sakuno's gaze to it in unwillingly morbid interest. She was couldn't sit through a cheap horror movie from the fifties without whimpering; she thought she wouldn't be able to bear looking at an actual wound like that. Yet the cut was so clean, the tip so well healed that it really was as if the last joint simply never existed.

Natsuko caught what her niece had hoped was yet another discreet glance and stopped chopping, all to better display the digit of interest. "A beauty, isn't it? I'm lucky it came out so clean."

Well, she was trapped. It was a shame to be rude—but Auntie Natsuko did not seem very upset. In fact, Sakuno thought the woman almost acted proud, like a veteran showing off an old war wound. "Auntie, how did—?"

"1991. A blender. I got careless. A word of advice, sweetie: when you're pushing down the last bits of vegetables for a puree, you damn well make sure that your other hand isn't anywhere near the 'on' button."

Just the thought made Sakuno queasy. "That's awful!"

"Tell me about it. The dish I was making was ruined. Still, that blender was the best I ever had. They don't make 'em like they used to."

Sakuno was ready to simply let the unpleasant topic drop then and there, but her Auntie proceeded to launch into a lovely spiel of all the fellow cooks she had known through the years who had suffered sliced fingers and hands, boiling water spilled on their legs, hot oil mishaps, and other such edifying anecdotes.

"I remember there was a Japanese-made electric mixer model called the Beaty-Beaty-San 5000. Had a motor that could power a small golf cart. It's discontinued now. It caught on the hair of a friend of mine-" and here she pinched her fingers underneath Sakuno's nose, "in one of the beaters as he was mixing cake batter. It ended up being scalp-flavored."

Sakuno squeaked. Natsuko gave a sage nod. "And yes, sweetie, that was yet another dish ruined. Still, like I said, they just don't make 'em like that any more."

Much to her eternal thanks, the conversation shifted elsewhere. Since their arrival Sakuno had wondered why her aunt had left the restaurant business for home-catering and timidly managed to voice the question. It turned out that even just a decade ago Natsuko had worked in three male-dominated four-star restaurants; each time she, being of the few women chefs, had been sexually harassed. Three times she had defended herself a little too vigorously ("Then I poured some hot oil down his ass-crack."). But things had worked out for the best. Catering suited her aunt and made her a reasonably wealthy woman.

"Normally I don't have help, now that your cousins are gone and I can't conscript them anymore" she confided. "I make lots and lots of Tanabata food for the big festival myself. But every damn year that old coot Sanada seems to up the order. And why shouldn't he? He'd hardly have a festival without me, and he's so traditional—and I can do traditional food that'd knock his grandmama right out of her coffin, let me tell you! But he's so stuck up about it. He thinks he's all important just because he helps oversee the cultural activities in town. 'We must keep our city and community close to their roots,' he tells me. Like I care! He's working me to death. That must be his secret plan to off me…"

Never had Sakuno heard such a volume of complaints, not even when her grandmother felt achy or Tomo-chan lamented about how so much harder it was to get good grades in their new school. If she were Tezuka-buchou, she'd have her aunt run fifty laps around the kitchen just for the whining. No, she amended, it wasn't kind to think such things. Her aunt had praised her skill with the flan custard, after all, and she did not want to aggravate someone who had surrounded herself with knives and could use them consummately.

The phone rang and Natsuko crossed the kitchen into the next room to answer it. Not five words into the conversation her aunt had raised her voice so loud that Sakuno could hear it.

"Well, Sanada, I'm not young anymore! I can't move all this stuff myself to your precious festival and I've only got one helper... _No_, she's a delicate young lady, I'm not out to give her a hernia, dammit! Oh…oh, is that so! I'll piss in your koi pond! Listen, old man, if you want all of this so bad, you have to work with me here. I could just not set up a place at the festival at all, how'd you like that? Understand? Good. Just, just send your grandson over here in the morning to help with the loading. He's a strapping young lad, isn't he? Some kinda volleyball player? Yeah, yeah, same difference. Okay, so he'll be here. Hope he's not as big as a pain in the ass as you are."

The sniping and insults continued. Sakuno rested her head on the counter to ease the throbbing. How could she face Sanada-san now? It would have been hard enough just being around his formidable austerity, but now that she found her aunt talked so rudely to his venerable grandfather on what sounded like a regular basis they might as well have been declared sworn blood enemies.

All hope of relaxation during this holiday flitted away to where all dashed dreams go to die, leaving Sakuno wishing that she could also go there, if only to escape the migraine forming under her left eye.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Nerves, her tendency to fret, a headache, and excitement kept Sakuno up well into the night hours. For a while she had spent time at the kitchen table pouring through the cookbooks until a nagging crook in her back forced a venue change. She would go back to her designated bedroom and read a little more, think some more, before tucking in to try to sleep.

The doors along unknown corridors in poor lighting soon had Sakuno dizzied around. Reduced to trying each and every door to find the right place, the first two she opened lead into a laundry room and a bedroom that was not hers.

Opening the third door entered into a room inky with shadows. Turning on two of the floor lamps provided Sakuno with enough light to see that it was a sitting room furnished with various chairs and floor-cushions; cooking awards were settled haphazardly on some shelves and several weeks' worth of dust tickled at her nostrils.

Arranged in a more attentive manner were the photograph in albums, some clear and new, others less crisp with washed out, grainy colors. Sakuno smiled as she passed by pictures of her cousins and photos from the last few big family get-togethers. There were even some captures of a woman she recognized as Grandma in her younger days on the courts, all beautiful and bursting with energy in mid-serve. Her Grandma had been so lovely! There was even a photograph, she was shocked to discover, of a stripling Echizen Nanjiroh in a victory celebration along with his coach and team: the camera had caught him laying a huge kiss on her grandmother's (looking crossways between amused and enraged) cheek. She again wondered how Ryoma-kun could be related to him.

In the grainiest pictures, was a young, slim girl with ridiculously long black hair, freckles, and a deer-like way of bearing herself. Many times she had another another girl, swiftly identified as Auntie Natsuko, as her companion.

Back at her grandmother's place there were only a few pictures of Sakuno's parents. She and her grandma had talked about them enough in the past so that it was not an uncomfortable subject, though not brought up on a constant basis. Yet she had never found pictures of her mother at such a young age. It was such a novelty, so striking a contrast, that Sakuno swiftly became enraptured. It was oddly enthralling to have a concrete realization that her mother had once been a girl like her, worn rather silly outdated clothes, and had looked so delicate yet vibrant.

She devoured page after page of photos, her mother morphing into a teenager and then a young adult, the colors less grainy and more glossy. There were other pictures with Auntie as well; her bad taste in hairstyles remained a constant.

Finally, among the last pictures in an album, was this: her mother in a bed, cradling a toddler and grinning at the camera. It created a swell of strange emotions, mostly a ghostly kind of sweet longing; Sakuno had been too young to recall the circumstances of this picture. She didn't even know where it had been taken, as none of the furniture in the periphery looked familiar. On a second and third examination she picked out the metal bed railings, the respirator plugs in her mother's nose above the broad smile, and the twigginess of the woman's arms.

Sakuno's knees ached from sitting for so long. She did not know how to feel or what to think. It was a lovely memory, it made her sick; nothing won out. A hollowness had crept into her, eviscerating her entire middle so that she couldn't sniffle or crack a hint of smile. It took the removal of the album from her unresisting hands to snap her back as she watched her aunt gently close the book.

Behind Natsuko stood her grandmother, her face unreadable. "I think that's enough for one evening, Sa-chan"

Embarrassed, wracked with the feelings she could not identify under any category, and half afraid she had stumbled on something she wasn't meant to see and that both her grandmother and aunt would grow angry, she stood on colt-wobbly legs.

"It's all right, Sakuno. You're not going to jail," Auntie Natsuko made a laugh with no energy behind it. "You're free to go around the house as you please and you certainly can look at pictures of your family! It's just that—without someone to give you a head's up, some of the pictures might be rough for you to look at."

Her grandmother took her by the hand to sit down on an ottoman so she wouldn't accidentally tumble over. Sakuno did not want to think that there could be more pictures like the one she had seen, perhaps even worse, if she caught her aunt's meaning.

"There are more pictures of Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie. A couple of pages' worth. You can look at them too, if you like."

"I don't want to."

Her aunt shrugged deeply with the air that the statement was fair enough as she began to stack the albums up. "Off to bed with both of you, then. These are things that should be looked at in the daylight anyway, over a nice cup of coffee and cookies. Sumire has stories of her own she could tell about some of these."

"Maybe later," Grandma's head tilted forward in weariness and her hand rubbed warm circles through Sakuno's nightgown. There was a great temptation to trail her grandmother back and slip in next to her for the night; listening to someone next to you snore and wheeze helped keep unsavory thoughts away. Sakuno could only be thankful that there were no pictures of her father. Neither of them needed further reminding about what what he had done to himself; just the thoughts of her mother brought ugly truths rushing in.

The two headed off to their beds. As she passed by, Sakuno was detained by her aunt leaning over with a one-armed hug and a whisper.

"I want to tell you something. You should know that your mom never gave in to despair. No bull. All the time she was sick she smiled and laughed when she could. I even once caught her and your dad making out in the hospital. I won't deny that she was hurting, but I'll say it again: she never despaired. Just remember that."

Sakuno managed a smile at that as she stumbled through the room to the door, ready to continue her search for the right bedroom. That wide smile stretching out the nostrils so the tubes in them ran the risk of coming loose flashed before her eyes and would not leave.

If her mother could go through with those things and not be unhappy, she should be able to do the same thing.

That was what Sakuno repeated to herself as she slipped under the covers, rolled up into them tight, and waited out the minutes. The thought kept her from giving up, going to slip into her grandmother's room and make a sissy out of herself. It really was a shame that she was too old for such a thing; some extra warmth and the knowledge that her grandmother would sleep healthy and sound for the moment would have made passing the night easier.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

The morning of the Tanabata festival arrived and Natsuko had roused everyone early for last-minute preparation and packing. Sakuno almost tripped down the stairs three times and ran into a counter-top before her grandmother gave her some hot chocolate—she disliked coffee—to wake her up. All of them were in a mad rush up until only thirty minutes before it was time to load up and Sakuno was beginning to panic. She hadn't had any spare time prepare herself for the festival; she hadn't even managed to put on her special yukata or brush her hair, which was still in yesterday's braids and frizzing out all over the place like two caterpillars.

Getting into her ume-blossom printed yukata did not prove a problem, but she managed to misplace her comb and then her hair ties, and by the time she was starting to comb out her hair the doorbell sounded. Both her grandmother and aunt yelled up from downstairs for her to hurry and come help. She fumbled frantically to keep up a good, brisk pace while trying to not make it hurt when she hit any snags, but she had only brushed all her hair out before her grandmother came into the bathroom to fetch her.

"But Grandma, I need to do my braids," she protested. Sumire, as impatient and grumpy from the early waking as she was, smiled in fond humor.

"I'm sorry, Sa-chan, but there's just no time. You look perfectly fine. It's a nice change of routine for you. The yukata is lovely and you're pretty as a picture. Now let's go help your aunt before she murders us all." And that ended it.

Downstairs they met a scene both as surreal as it was almost pitiful. Natsuko was a whirlwind of activity, stacking Tupperware and other food containers and packing up cooking supplies. She barked out orders and shrieked towards the open front door for the unseen help to move his ass. Then Sakuno caught glimpses of Sanada-san, also dressed in a fine yukata, moving to haul off coolers of food and large boxes into a van. He worked without a complaint or even a single word, yet his stoicism strained between outrage and desperation.

"This is the help I get? You think you're so great, vice-captain of the tennis force? I could have asked my grandma to help me and she'd be faster than you—and she's DEAD! Move it!" As she passed by Sanada, Natsuko reached out and gave a crack against his rump. Sakuno groaned in mortification.

For his own part, Sanada held up well under the madwoman's abuse, only grinding his teeth at the violation of his dignity. Sakuno thought that he actually worked faster, if only to escape all the more quickly. When all was completed, he tried to make his escape, saying he had plans for today. He could not have opened himself up more to a trap. Her grandma innocently asked about the true nature of the 'plans.'

"I am planning to meet some friends today, and later my tennis team has an afternoon practice," said Sanada. The iron determination it took for the Rikkai team to hold practice on a summer day, and a holiday no less, filled Sakuno with a sort of sickened awe. What kind of beasts were they, to play on a day meant for fun and dreams? No wonder this school always gave her senpai such trouble during tournaments. Sumire raised her eyebrows and Natsuko rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Well," said her grandmother, "Sanada-kun, could you be so kind as to let Sakuno go around with you for a bit to enjoy the festival? She gets very discombobulated in unfamiliar places and she might get so lost that it'd take days to find her. I'd rather not risk it. Would you do me this favor? She's a good girl and won't bother you."

"Grandma—" Sakuno took one look at Sanada, so prim and proper in his yukata, and knew that, whatever his true opinion about this situation, he would never deny the request of an elder. And she would have sworn that, by the way his lip barely twisted at the mention of her lack of directional sense, it didn't help raise the estimation of her in Sanada's eyes. Still, Sanada bowed in acceptance her grandmother's request.

As the final wares were loaded up and the last-second matters attended to, Sakuno made sure she had plenty of holiday allowance-money and her cell in her drawstring bag. She went to fetch her parasol so that she wouldn't get sunburned. When she returned, she managed to catch her grandmother standing with her arm braced on the van's side as she faced Sanada, smile amiable.

". . .I know I shouldn't have to tell you this, since you're a most trustworthy young man. But if any of the hoodlums on your team lay a finger on my granddaughter, if I see one hair of hers out of place, any rumpled place on her clothes, and—" she made a slash across her throat.

Apparently bad luck was contagious. Sakuno could not keep from wondering how many people's lives she would destroy this day even as she took some small comfort that she would not be suffering alone.


	9. Adventure 9: Tanabata

SAKUNO ADVENTURE #9: TANABATA

"I'm so very sorry, Sanada-san. I don't know how I can repay you."

The trip to the festival area had been full of such whispered apologies. The two of them had been freed from the older women's supervision to go wherever they pleased, but not without Natsuko sending them both off with a parting swat on their behinds.

"I have already told you, Ryuuzaki-san, I accept your apologies. There is no need to do anything. I promised to do what I had to do. I'm only glad to get away from there." He suddenly turned his stern frown to her. "And please—I don't need the parasol. I'm fine."

Several times Sakuno had tried to offer additional shade for him with her miserable parasol; this was the third rebuff. She drew her arm back to let him grind his jaw alone in the heat.

As she had dearly hoped, a little time and distance had calmed down his indignation. Sanada regained his usual collected self and things did not feel so awkward. They had gone a little away from the main streets on which the festival was being held. Sakuno had not dared to venture any questions, but seeing the hesitation in her eyes Sanada explained.

"The team had arranged to meet at a certain spot before attending the festival, I hope you don't mind waiting a few minutes. Well—I see that Seiichi is already waiting. There he is." He gestured to a few benches under some shady trees ahead of them and Sakuno noticed a statuesque figure waiting there.

For some reason Sakuno had not counted on the possibility that Yukimura would be there, even though he no longer was hospitalized. She really knew very little about him aside from the old news about his illness and what she had gleaned from tennis gossip. She wanted to believe the best of him. He was the great Child of God, a player without peer—but he was also able keep the Rikkai players in line. She had heard rumors; if the gods had taken Tezuka-buchou and Fuji-senpai's personalities and smashed them together, the result would be Yukimura. As much as she loved her senpai, that mixture did not bode well.

'Oh please,' she thought, preempting one of her Tanabata wishes, "let the fans be right. Let him be nice.'

Sanada had gone ahead to greet his captain. She so wanted to hide behind that tall back, but Sakuno did not want to impress further upon him. So she hung back awkwardly.

What she had told Atobe had not been a full lie. His mystery may have made her nervous, but just from the pictures Sakuno had to admire that fine, luxurious hair of his. Years of caring for her own hair gave her an appreciation for good upkeep. Yukimura-san had been blessed with fine texture, thickness and shine from the very beginning, she was sure. It looked so soft and healthy and not a strand was out of place. No one, not even Ryoma-kun, could boast a better head of hair.

The young man with that luxurious hair cast his limpid eyes upon her and gave a small, benevolent smile that somehow harkened of Fuji-senpai's normal expression, benign but with an underlying sense of unknowable mutability. It gave her the impression that she could give him benefit of a doubt, but one sour note or mistake could bring about a nasty change. As she gave him a feeble smile and wave, Sakuno prayed that she'd stay in Yukimura's good graces.

"Genichirou." Those lovely hairs bobbed along Yukimura's placid face as he nodded in greeting. "Who's your friend here?"

With a little nudge from her companion Sakuno shuffled forth, bowed, and introduced herself, mentioning her grandmother, along with the customary polite pleasantries Yukimura's interest seemed piqued when she straightened out from her bow. "Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person at last, Ryuuzaki-chan," he smiled his normal smile upon her. "Your grandmother has produced many worthy opponents for our team over the years, so we're grateful to her. And of course, we know you as well. Thank you for the bento you sent me last month, by the way. It was delicious. All of us liked what we received."

Sakuno blushed under such words and managed a smile as she tried to be courteous as possible and deflect the compliment. With the formalities over and done with, Sanada went straight to business.

"Are the others even coming, Seiichi? They're going to be late—again." He spoke this with a slight air of long-suffering, which made Yukimura laugh in his soft way.

"Of course they are, Genichirou. This is a festival. Don't be so impatient."

Sanada didn't look mollified at all as he tugged at the sash of his yukata, his stern face hardening. "They don't have the proper respect for traditional festivals like this. Half of them won't even be wearing yukata today. They'll get laps at practice."

Since Yukimura only shrugged and let the subject lie at that, Sakuno remained silent as he rose and they began to walk on—to another meeting place, she assumed. She fidgeted with her collar and wished she was in her braids so she could tug on one. Sanada-san alone was enough to throw her off-kilter, but now Yukimura-san and probably the whole team…! What a fifth wheel she was! Getting lost for days and days almost seemed the better option; she wouldn't burden anyone besides the police that way.

The gloomy thoughts fled at the tug upon her sleeve. Sakuno looked up at Yukimura, easily walking beside her, as he spoke.

"You know, I received a very interesting call from Atobe recently." There was a twinkle in his eye as he watched her squirm, brushing her hair so it curtained her flaming cheeks. She did not dare look up at him, certain it would only make him go on.

"Whatever he said, Yukimura-san, he was lying!"

"So Atobe is a liar now? He won't be happy to hear that."

He relented at her desperate cringing, reassuring her that he was not without mercy. Sakuno peeped up at him through her security curtain, which to her greatest thanks seemed to bring him onto a different track.

"I must say, Ryuuzaki-chan, I've never seen hair in such good condition as yours—and such length, too! You must tell me your secrets."

Now here was something she could bite into. Sakuno perked up right away, her step with an added bounce. None of her own senpai ever complimented her hair. It would be a cold day in Hell before Ryoma-kun ever said anything nice about it. To be able to talk to someone who could finally, finally understand and appreciate her secret pride was a joy. "Yukimura-san is too kind. I actually think your hair is better than mine. Yours is so much shinier, and with such body! How do you do it?"

The rapid sound of jogging footsteps approached drowned out any chance to murmur product and grooming secrets. It was Kirihara. He came up, stopping short with a squeak of his shoes in his surprise.

"Sakuno-chan! What are you doing with buchou and fukubuchou? I was going to visit you later!" The last few words escaped in a whine. All of his prior cheer and energy on the bus had vanished, replaced with displeasure. His moodiness bewildered her. She must have done something wrong, but all she had been doing was standing here and talking to pass the time.

Following her explanation of how events had come to pass, Kirihara appeared more cheerful, giving one of his cocky laughs when she whispered to him about the hard time her aunt had given her and his fukubuchou (omitting language and certain other embarrassments). Soon the whole Rikkai team, minus one, had assembled. While Sakuno introduced herself to the others, Sanada crooked his finger towards their Junior Ace.

"Kirihara. What do you call those?" Sanada directed his accusation at the boy's feet. Sakuno followed his finger and cupped her face to hide her grin.

"Sandals." came the surly response. She personally thought that the rubber aqua-colored flip-flops on Akaya-kun's feet were rather cute, but they could not compare to the majesty of Sanada's solid wooden geta.

"Those are not proper festival footwear. And your belt is tied so sloppily—are you even taking this seriously at all, Kirihara? Are our traditions a laughing stock to you?"

Niou laughed. "You look like you're in a bathrobe, the way you're wearing that. And the beach flops, heh. If you're not an escaped mental patient or my grandpa, I can't say they do anything for you, Aka-chan." He turned to her, eyes slitted with amusement. "And you—you look like my grandma."

The past couple of weeks had inured her somewhat to Niou's raillery, so Sakuno summoned up every drop of confidence to stick out her chin a little, lips pursed.

"Does that mean your grandma is completely awesome, Niou-san?"

He made to grab at one of her braids only to find that they did not exist, catching just a couple of strands of hair that slipped from his grasp with an easy flounce of her neck. Sakuno laughed and dodged to get near to Yagyuu, hoping his gentlemanly nature would shield her.

"You little cheater. At least you don't look like you're six years old now, even if your hair is stupid long. Why would you want to cart all that around anyway?"

"Be polite, Niou. I'm sure that Sakuno-chan looks just fine in her braids as she does without them," said Yagyuu. He spoke with such finality on the subject that Niou, no matter what he thought, did not pursue his doubles partner in the argument. At some prompting (probably Yukimura's) even Yanagi and Jackal complimented her festival appearance, saying she looked very nice. This did much to put Sakuno at ease. If she could manage to refrain from annoying behavior, she could not see anything that would keep her from getting along with them.

A glance at all of the arrivals brought the tally to seven. Yanagi had noted that as well to his captain.

"I see that Marui is late. He usually is not the last one—85.72 percent of the time, by my last calculation."

"Well, we're in no hurry," Yukimura began, but others did not match his serenity.

"Oh damn," Niou whistled; darting a gaze first at her before his grave eyes locked with Kirihara's. "We'll have to run interference. Be right back"

This solemnity struck Sakuno as alarming. "W—What do you mean, Niou-san?"

Kirihara waved his hands in the air to reassure her that Marui Bunta would not do anything untoward, no, but if they did not intercept him first and make it clear that she was not here to cater to his epicurean lusts, then there would be no end to his pleading and badgering her about cakes and such.

"Really," Kirihara said, "it'd be such a pain for you, Saku-bunny. We need to be good hosts. Right, Yagyuu-senpai, Buchou?"

Being masters of etiquette, both men asked nodded. Yukimura added that it would be quite a shame if they proved to be pushy and overbearing with their honored guest, and that it would be very, very good if such a thing were avoided.

The two ran off. Sakuno had resigned herself to wait for a while, but only a minute or so passed before familiar voices called out to one another in greeting. Now, in truth Sakuno had felt her curiosity stir in morbid fascination for the person who so loved her baking. He was still rather unknown to her; she really only was familiar with three of the Rikkai Regulars. She wanted to investigate his reactions.

Besides, joking or not, he had been the only person to ever want to marry her. That also counted for something.

Sakuno excused herself to get a drink of water from a nearby fountain. It was located behind a thicket of well-tended hedges but close enough so that she could hear the conversation.

A lifetime of meekness had trained her in the arts of making herself inconspicuous and silent, much like a very clumsy mouse. A brush of her hair brought curtains of it past her cheeks. As she approached the fountain, she peered through the tiny branches in the hedges.

"You mean she's here? Here? Right now? And none of you bothered to tell me?" Marui's voice increased its volume along with its pitch. She heard Niou scoff in return.

"Calm down, Marui. It's not a big deal."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is! Now there's no time for me to prepare! Dammit, are there any tuxedo rental places open on holidays? I've got to make a good impression."

"You mean better than the times you bugged her for her cakes?" asked Kirihara, which got him a light smack for being uppity to his senpai. Despite that, he continued. "Trust me, Marui-senpai, I don't think her personality is good for you. She's kinda boring, actually. All quiet and stuff."

"Well, does she know a little about tennis? If she has that, I'm sold. You don't seem to understand how good her cooking is, Aka-chan."

"Eh, it's not so great. And if I remember anything from the last invitational camp, her tennis sucks." That, combined with Niou's agreeing nod, sent her bristling.

Boring! Well, she was quiet and did not have much to say sometimes. Point granted. And she supposed that against the Regulars, her tennis was bad. But she could only be pushed so far. How dare Akaya-kun—or maybe she'd just call him Kirihara-san from now on—sniff at her cooking like that when he had complimented her on it before!

She could take either being lied to or having her one great skill mocked, but not both at the same time. If this was going to be how things went, she would just go off on her own back to her aunt and grandmother, hang whatever anyone else said. She did not have to take any more of this. And—she would tell them what she thought!

"Kirihara-san, if I'm so boring—" she stormed around the hedges. Three faces snapped towards her.

Bunta stared at her, then at his teammates, and then back at her again, and then at Kirihara and Niou again. His stiffened shoulders screamed betrayal.

"You _jerks_," he snapped at them. "You told me she was bug-eyed and kind of ugly!"

He reached into a pocket and brought out a picture, waving it at them in accusation. From what she could see, Sakuno saw it was indeed a photograph of her—from her first year in middle school, on class picture day. Her grandmother had a similar photo at work. Not only that, but she could have sworn that her face had not nearly been so thin, nor her eyes so huge. She sensed the dread hand of some photo-shopping program behind the differences.

Sakuno turned her own glare upon the two culprits. "You gave him a picture of me when I was _twelve_? Just look at it! It's like—like I'm a cartoon!" She did not know why these two were expending such energy to find ways to annoy her; despite the Rikkai Dai reputation, she had thought that Kirihara and Niou were nice, in their own way. She felt like an idiot.

While Bunta squawked in his own outrage at being duped, the two tried to explain.

"You don't understand, Saku-bunny! We weren't trying to make fun of you," said Kirihara, stepping forward.

"It was for your own protection," insisted Niou with an irritated tug at his ponytail.

"Bull crap!" snapped Marui before she could reply. "You two jerks just wanted her and her delicious sweets to yourselves. But too bad! You can't deny fate."

He cleared his throat and transferred his omnipresent gum to the back of one cheek before moving towards her, a grin blooming for her. When he stopped, he straightened himself with a purpose.

"Hey Ryuuzaki-baby: is you from space? '_Cause you're so cute you're out of this world_." He gave her the double-barreled shotgun gesture to accompany that, his index fingers pointed right at her and thumbs held straight and high.

She couldn't help herself. It was all so nonsensical. Her irritation faded away as she put her hand up over her nose and dissolved into giggles. She kept giggling and giggling, even when it began to hurt her sides and the other two boys inched away from her. This only egged Marui on. He went behind her to flip at the tag at the inside back of her yukata.

"Ah, no wonder. Look what it says here: 'Made in Heaven!'"

Kirihara once more advanced, reaching out to swat Marui's hand away; his green eyes burned bright. "Stop that, Marui-senpai!"

"Aw, you're just jealous. See? She likes it!" He would have made to glomp onto her shaking shoulders from behind if Niou hadn't drawn him away, nearly causing Marui to choke on his gum.

"Well, so much for trying to protect you from this eat-monster, Ryuuzaki. You're gonna regret it. Come on, we better get back to the others before fukubuchou blows a gasket."

When she had recovered from her fit, Marui began to bombard her with questions. How long was she staying? Did she have a booth at the festival? Would her aunt give them free sweets? Would she bake him five more cakes while she was still in town? Would she call him when she practiced her baking and needed a test subject? What did she know about tennis?

He was nice to her and very energetic with his praise. Still, Sakuno resolved that she would try to stick close to quieter people like Jackal and Yagyuu-san as much as she could.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Throngs of people milled around, clogging the arterial side-streets that branched off from Kanagawa's main pedestrian centers. Sakuno herself did not enjoy crowded areas filled with strange people who, her bad luck being what it was, tended to react strongly when she accidentally spilled something on them or tripped over their feet, but they did have one advantage. She could disappear quite easily within them. Crowds swallowed mousy people like her up into a nice, cozy hole of anonymity. With an escort of friendly boys somewhat terrifying in their eccentricities to buffer her from bullies, Sakuno felt more at ease than she often did at her own school grounds. No-one here besides her aunt and grandmother knew she was out and about. What did she have to fear from shame and embarrassment, save for a tease here and there or a light tug at her hair from Niou?

So, casting care aside, Sakuno went along through the crowds all light and breezy. She smiled. She laughed at Marui, Kirihara, and Niou's antics. She fell into earnest discussions about art and brush painting with Sanada and Brazilian cuisine with Jackal.

To punish such arrogance, the ruling powers of the universe happened to arrange it so that Horio Satoshi happened to also have relatives living in Kanagawa and that he too should be there to see them on holiday. Determined not to suffer a vacation with his grandparents alone, he had finagled Kachiro and Katsuo to come with him. It also happened that the three should be attending the exact same festival around the exact same time. The rest of the dominoes toppled themselves.

Horio ambled along, happily prattling about how his Tanabata wishes always came true and that this year's awesome wish would come true as well, when something in his peripheral vision tingled with familiarity. At first glance he didn't know why he had to take a second glance. The group of boys walking on the other side of the street did not strike him at first—perhaps it was the fact that a single girl swam along with them in the crowd. Then he caught Kirihara's shiny hair and loud laugh.

He waved his hands towards the retreating group. "Guys, I can't believe it. It's Rikkai Dai! The whole regular team! See, there they go."

Katsuo and Kachiro followed the direction of the flapping gesture. "You're right. They must do lots of stuff together. I bet they have a practice today as well," said Kachiro.

"Freaks." Horio sniffed. "Even Tezuka-buchou doesn't have us practice on holidays. We still beat their overachieving butts at Nationals last year, and—Who's the girl with them?"

"Someone from Rikkai?" Katsuo offered mildly, not liking the boggled expression overtaking Horio's face; that meant that something had made Horio alarmed, and an alarmed Horio usually meant disaster for them all.

"No, no, that's not—it's not—it can't—but it _is_! It's her! And she has her hair down!"

"Who does? And who's 'she'?" Kachiro shared Katsuo's nervousness, as now Horio was shaking all over like a chihuahua and moving back the way they had come, following the Rikkai group.

Horio began to fumble with his pockets in a mad attempt to get at his new digital camera. "It's Sakuno-chan! That has to be her! It's not in braids, but nobody else has hair that long." He turned on the zoom lens of his camera while swimming upstream through the crowd, bumping into almost everyone without heed. "I can sorta see her face. Yes! It really is her!"

He turned to beam at his best friends like he had discovered a new species of animal. "Gentlemen, this is a momentous day. Nobody at school has seen a Sakuno-chan in the wild without her braids! We can also make prints and sell them for one hundred yen a gander when school starts. The world must know! I don't know why this is so important, but it is!"

He was hopping about at the revelation until Kachiro made a hesitant observation. "I wonder what she's doing with the Rikkai team. We barely know them—I thought _she_ barely knew them."

"Maybe they're just making sure she doesn't get lost in these crowds," offered Katsuo—too late. Horio had halted his victory-prancing in horror.

"No, Kachiro's right. This is very bad news_. _I thought that she still liked Ryoma-kun. What does this _mean_?" His unibrow dipped at a frightening angle. "Could it be that our Sakuno-chan is a—a loose woman?"

Realizing his mistake, Kachiro tried to reassure his friend that it was just an observation, that nothing would come of it. Katsuo did his best to back Kachiro up, but Horio would hear nothing of it. Tears began to burble in the corners of his eyes.

"Ah, this is indeed a sad day for childhood romance. What if Ryoma-kun knew about these shenanigans! But I suppose it serves him right. He has no tact with Sakuno-chan and she was probably hurt one too many times. And now behold! She has flung herself into the arms of the enemy for comfort."

The group stopped a vendor's both selling fancy hair pins and combs made of fine wood, enamel, or jade. Sakuno fluttered from ware to ware, picking up one trinket after another to examine them more carefully. This all seemed innocuous enough until Yukimura joined in to help her test out her favorites by swooping up elegant handfuls of her hair and pinning them up. It was all the other two could do to stop Horio from doing a turtle-roll onto his back and flail his feet in the air.

"This is horrible. We can't let this—this perversion continue on! Someone, stop that mack daddy! Think of Ryoma-kun's honor," he wheezed in his struggle against the serpents he once considered friends entwined about his arms. Katsuo eyed the Rikkai group with a wariness bordering on panic.

"Stop it, Horio-kun. They might hear you. We're too young to die!"

Kachiro frowned at the scene. "That Yukimura sure knows more about how to style a girl's hair than what's proper." The said captain was parting away snips of Sakuno's hair and twisting them into deft little mini-braids as he murmured some apparent compliments into her ear from the way she blushed and laughed. Scandal!

Katsuo and Kachiro voted for simply turning tail and enjoy the other venues of the festival without interrupting business that could potentially get them beaten up, but Horio would not be deterred from continuing the pursuit. The other two slowly broke underneath the torrent of whines, threats, and pleas. Such was the great, terrible power of Horio's tenacity.

They trailed the Rikkai-Sakuno-chan group for three more stops at various booths and shops. Nothing else out of the ordinary happened, but the trio had the inclination that it was more due to Sakuno staying closer to Yagyuu and Jackal during this time more than anything. She was currently engaged in a failing Portuguese lesson with Jackal as the others moved to get some more snacks.

Horio sighed in some relaxation of his anxiety. "Well, I guess this could be worse. I don't trust 'em completely, but those two are much better for Sakuno's reputation than the others. They don't act so touchy-touchy with her. Don't you guys agreeEERGH!"

Katsuo and Kachiro squealed in fear as two hands jerked their leader from the crowd, out of their view. In a flash they felt themselves being bodily removed—and none too gently. Before the three could comprehend anything, they found themselves pushed into a side street where there were far less people, and they were facing the four beings they least wanted to run into. Sanada stood right in front of them, arms folded, face an implacable mask as he leveled a gaze of deepest displeasure upon them, making them squirm where they stood.

"Who're you and why are you trailing us? And what's with the camera?" Marui demanded the questions in such rapid succession that none of the trio had time to respond.

"Spying on us, no doubt. They must know about our practice later." Niou circled them, the predator sounding out his prey, and while the three were distracted Kirihara grabbed for the digital camera and began to thumb through the previews. His face, lit up devilishly, lost its glee and his eyes grew bloodshot at the corners.

"Sakuno-chan is in all of these, fukubuchou."

"I see." Sanada's fingers twitched for an imaginary weapon that the trio were thanking the gods he did not have at the moment. Instead he raised his hand as if to slap the first boy he focused on, but he settled for sticking his pointer finger quite rudely underneath Katsuo's nose. His words and stern gaze, however, were to castigate all of them. "Following a lady and taking pictures of her without her knowledge or consent is for otaku and other perverted nerds. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

Kachiro was unable to contain himself. "Please, Sanada-san, we were only concerned for Sakuno-chan. She's our schoolmate. And—well—uh, not that we were worried about you doing anything, no sir, but some of, uh, your, uh, other teammates might not be so-"

This did nothing to placate any of the circling predators. Offense sharpened Sanada's eyes and he bared his teeth in a terrible grimace. "You are insulting my school, my teammates, myself, and my very family by even suggesting that we have treated Ryuuzaki-san with anything but hospitality! She is a guest and is honored as such."

"Besides, we weren't the ones following after her in secret—badly too, just so you know—like lame ninjas. You're being the creeps here, kids. Do you even go to the same school as Ryuuzaki? I doubt it." Niou cleaned at the dirt under his nails. "Maybe we should let Aka-chan take care of this on his own? He could paint the sidewalk with these twerps."

Kirihara bounced on the balls of his feet in his eagerness. "Please, fukubuchou, let me destroy them."

"But we know her! And she knows us! She does! Come and bring her to see us, she'll tell you we're her friends, you'll see. Please! You have to believe us!" Kachiro had fallen to his knees in front of Sanada, grabbing at the hem of his yukata.

"Fine. I'll ring up our buchou and the others to get them over here. Ryuuzaki-san can tell us the truth."

"You fool!" hissed Katsuo while the Rikkai players were distracted. "We don't Sakuno-chan to be dragged into this. She'll tell Ryoma or even Tezuka-buchou and then ours lives will reach unprecedented levels of suckiness." Horio retorted that he'd rather have stray tennis balls accidentally bean him for a month or face a thousand laps than be subjected to the tender mercies of Rikkai.

"Besides, Sakuno-chan will vouch for us. We'll be safe," Horio ended the matter.

"Even though we were following her around?" ventured Kachiro. Horio shrugged.

"It's not like it hasn't happened to her before. She should be used to it by now."

On that point the three could agree.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

The day's awkward starting moments had brought uncertainty and a little ache in her stomach. But now, parasol raised high to provide shadow for whichever regular walked next to her, Sakuno hummed with cheer. She hadn't had such a good time for a long while. For once she could push back everything that bothered her and simply enjoy herself.

There was so much to see and do in this unfamiliar venue—arts and crafts booths, outdoor karaoke set-ups, and of course the food vendors. They stopped by Auntie Natsuko's area and gotten some light meals for a discount. While they were there Sakuno saw Marui trying to chat her aunt up. By the way she had grabbed at his chin, squishing his jaw in the hand with the finger missing its tip, Marui had not made a good impression.

Being such a large group, Sakuno found herself being pulled each way and that. Kirihara wanted her to sing a karaoke tune with him, then Marui would drag her off to rate some cakes, then Niou would slip an ice cube down the back of her yukata. All the while she would try to do her best to make conversation with the others, who did not seem to mind if she stuttered a bit.

Along the way they passed by a stationary and calligraphy supply shop. She noticed the glance of longing Sanada cast its way. As her art classes were her second-best subject in school, she too enjoyed the lovely, crisp stacks of paper, writing brushes of various sizes with ornate handles, and even a few blank strips of silk displayed in the window.

She expected Sanada to risk letting his team run amok for a few minutes so he could duck into the store, but Niou had chosen that time to cast some multicolored smoke-bombs into the street. Seeing her opportunity she asked the other Regulars if they could enter the store. No one objected.

Her grandma had only allowed her so much spending money for the festival, so many of the higher-quality brushes and cases floated high over her price range. After some searching she found a nice handsome-looking lamb's-hair brush with a green-marbled handle. Unsure, she decided to ask Yukimura on whether it would be a good gift. Yukimura smoothed his finger against the soft brush's tip.

"It'd serve its purpose well. Genichirou goes through normal brushes pretty quickly. This one looks like it would last longer. I think he would appreciate it." His eyes burned with a twinkle. "Escorting you around this morning was that bad, was it? Poor Genichirou. What happened?"

The question froze her in place. Yukimura's face hadn't changed, nothing had really changed about him, but now she felt as though she was about to walk on bare feet over a field of invisible glass shards. What had happened to Sanada-kun had been undignified, a little embarrassing, but nothing to shake the world about. Still, the Rikkai team were known for their ruthless loyalties—the carnage that might ensue could be catastrophic.

"Nothing bad," she responded. "Just—well, Sanada-san did get bossed around a bit. Only Grandma and Auntie were around, so it wasn't too embarrassing."

He waved the attempt at damage control away. "I see. Well, I suppose I'll find about about it from him sooner or later. I'm glad you're doing the right thing and showing gratitude, Ryuuzaki-chan." He patted her head. "Or else I'd have to kill you."

Now she could finally understand what being one of Fuji-senpai's victims felt like. She did her best to excuse herself; her need to pay for her gift furnished a timely escape. The others who had gone in were still browsing around the shop save for Yanagi Renji, who had set up post beside the front door. Sakuno stood next to him, drowning in awkwardness. She knew the least about him of all the Regulars, but if he was such good friends with Inui-senpai then he was doubtless scanning her from underneath his eyelids for information to scribble down.

If he was like Inui-senpai, however, then she could probably count on him to be honest with her; perhaps brutally so, but she had faced worse. After a small cough she spoke to him. "May I ask you something, Yanagi-san?"

"Yes."

"I'm—I'm not causing too much trouble, am I? You've all been so nice, but I can't help feel that I'm holding up your plans for today."

"I do not see how that could be the case. Aside from some scheduled practice time today, we had no true itinerary. Believe me, Ryuuzaki-san, we are not people who tolerate interruptions."

That pronouncement held the cold comfort of calculation but it did not satisfy her completely. "That's good to know. Thank you, Yanagi-san. I just get the feeling that Yukimura-san-"

"What about Buchou?" He looked up from his notebook sharply, pen at the ready.

"I—I just hope that I'm not doing anything to make him dislike me, that's all. He's been very kind but sometimes I don't know how to tell what he's really thinking."

"Ah. I'm guessing he must have said something to you; odds are he was teasing. Give me a minute and I can figure them out for you."

"Well, he did say he'd have to kill me." She gave the context of the recent chat and he stopped tabulating the odds. If he had been a more sarcastic person and didn't almost always keep his eyes shut, Yanagi might have been rolling them at her.

"Yes. It is a 99.999 repeating percent chance he was only teasing you. It's just Buchou's way, Ryuuzaki-san. He likes to keep people on their toes."

Considering how Fuji-senpai liked keeping Mizuki-san on his toes, Sakuno couldn't afford full relaxation yet. "I just hope that I'm not bothering everybody. I have bad luck when it comes to that."

Yanagi eyed his notebook with appraisal after he had done some quick scribbling into it. "So long as you cause no trouble, then you will be fine. However, Ryuuzaki-san, you should know that this is our last season together as a team. We are very serious about our prospects. Anything that can be seen as an obstacle—it will be removed." At her gape, he continued levelly. "I'm specifically referring to your behaviors when it comes to offering the team sweets, especially Marui. It's fortunate that nothing so far has affected any of the players. If it does come to that, then—you will have to deal with fukubuchou. If you really screw up, Buchou will step in. You do not want that to happen."

Warnings and veiled threats she could understand. It really was a shame; she had grown something of a fondness for the Rikkai team. Perhaps it was for the best; it would make National time much easier, anyway. She'd never stop cheering for her senpai, but it would less fun to watch the matches when she knew and liked players on both teams. That was the price for being tennis-mad like these two schools were. It only made the friendlier attitudes of the girls' teams much more sensible. Boys were such odd creatures.

Only three Rikkai players rejoined them at the door. Looking out the shop window, Sakuno did not see the others grouped nearby. As if to echo her thoughts, Yagyuu spoke gravely. "It's been ten minutes since I last heard from or saw Masaharu. That is never a good sign."

Yukimura answered the sudden ringing of his phone. He stepped away, murmured a few words that none of them could overhear, then glided over to relate the news.

"Ryuuzaki-chan, I think you need to come with us. Genichirou says that your presence is required."

He would not—or probably, could not, given how short the call had been—answer any questions during their march through the streets. What could she have done? She had been in the shop the entire time. It couldn't have been her fault this time—or could it?

The scene which she came upon was not unfamiliar to her: someone (usually her) being threatened by one or more people who were bigger and faster. She never would have figured, however, that friends she thought were in another town would be standing in her place.

At her arrival her three friends chorused a phrase that everyone, including her, had figured would be the least likely words ever said to her:

"Ryuuzaki-chan, help us!"

It took her a long time to digest the situation—not that Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo getting in trouble wasn't a common thing, but that they were here in Kanagawa, at the same festival, being rounded up by the same people who had let her accompany them for the day. It took her so long to regain coherence that the Rikkai team thought that the Ichinen boys had been lying. Fists rose into the air. She noticed how her classmates trembled.

"Stop it! Let them go, they're my friends," she cried. A brief explanation of how they knew other later, the three regained their liberty. Horio hugged his arms about his unbruised torso, marveling at their close scrape.

She gave them a moment to savor their avoidance of an ambulance ride before going to Kachiro. He seemed the most unshaken and he was the most upfront with her. "Kachiro-kun, what happened? What are you and Horio-kun and Katsuo-kun doing here?"

"Ha!" Horio snapped up his head. "That's what we should be asking you, Ryuuzaki-chan. You're...you're canoodling with the enemy!"

That would have earned him a beating if she hadn't had the presence of mind, despite her confusion, to ask Kirihara to please stand down. All was confusion. Canoodling? The enemy? She then tried to look at the situation from the trio's point of view and all clicked into place. Horio mistook her groan and rubbing of the forehead for shame at getting caught and pounced right on it.

"Aha! See, I was right. I'm sure they tricked you, though. What kind of things have they made you do, Ryuuzaki-chan?"

Oh, the inanity of it all hurt her head. Still, she wasn't going to let them pry further. It wouldn't do any good to even deign to soothe their ridiculous fears. "I'm sorry, Horio-kun, but that's my own business."

"But what about Ryoma-kun?" he demanded.

"How on earth does Ryoma-kun play into this?" There was no chance of her following that train of thought. Horio and the others made to speak but Marui rushed forward with the camera, thrusting it into her hands.

"You don't understand, Saku-chan. Look at what they've been doing!"

Being stalked by well-intentioned classmates who never held privacy sacred did not come as anything new to her. Cameras and the actual taking of pictures had not been included in that familiar package. Not even Fuji-senpai had done it—or if he did, he hadn't been caught. She stamped her foot, scowled mightily, and the other two pointed towards Horio.

"He did it."

"It was all his idea."

"I don't give a fig whose idea it was! You—you were going to show the whole school, weren't you. Oh, don't shake your heads. That last time you all tried to keep something secret it landed on the front page of the school newspaper. Ooo—" This had finally undone her. She was so annoyed she almost wanted to throw a tantrum. "When school starts, just—-just wait and see! The next time you three mess up a cake in Home Ec, I'm not helping you."

Much whining and arguing would have ensued had Kirihara not come forth and asked to see the camera. He turned it over in his hands, strangely thoughtful.

"If you're so keen to be taking pictures, why don't you take some shots of us all? It'd be a nice way to remember the festival."

"Yeah. Come on, Sakuno-chan, get in the picture with me here in front of this fountain." With Bunta tugging her over by the yukata, Sakuno did not have the heart to refuse even as he propped an arm around her shoulders and gave the camera the v-sign. Katsuo had the camera shoved into his hands by Kirihara with a whispered something that made his teeth chatter. Thus coerced, Katsuo took a series of about ten pictures. Sakuno felt foolish as she was dragged about from place to place as the team wanted each picture in a slightly different place with different people. The last one was a shot of the whole group in front of a fountain, Kirihara on her left and Sanada on her right.

Horio's shiny new camera did not return to him whole. Before Katsuo rejoined his still-antsy comrades Niou had snatched up the camera. The memory card was deftly removed. Horio protested that he had other pictures of his family on the card, which only got waved off.

"We'll get it back to you somehow. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but someday. Before you die, at least." He exchanged a nod with Yukimura and Sanada before coming to a tacit agreement and adding, "And oh yeah, you won't be showing any of those pictures you took today. Ever. We'll erase 'em for ya. And if you protest—well, things'll happen. Bad things." His eyes lit up. He tossed the card to Kirihara before making another advance on the trio.

"That reminds me. You three don't think you'll get off scott-free, do you?" He reached into his bag as the freshmen trembled anew. "Today each one of you is gonna go home in a_ frilly pink training bra!"_

Sakuno admitted that the idea of the thing wasn't so bad; she was still a little sore. But friends were friends and public humiliation seemed too much. "No, they won't. I think you've scared them enough as it is, Niou-san. Let's just go on." She flipped her hair back in slight agitation as she gave her classmates a final send-off. "And you'd better not do it again! Or else I'll tell Tezuka-buchou about this."

With as much dignity as she could summon, she walked off, the rest of the Rikkai group following. Only Niou held back, motioning to Kirihara and Marui for assistance. The squeals that erupted a few seconds later did not make a dent in the festival air, swallowed up in the sounds of the throng.

The Ichinen trio hobbled slowly and deliberately on their way. Gingerly Horio reached down to try and pick at the burning cloth wedged so uncomfortably in his rear.

"Considering what we were up against," he said brightly, "I think we got off pretty easy."

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Now that she saw her anonymity could not be preserved out in the open, Sakuno did not feel much like staying out; she was hot, her feet tired, and she wanted a break from excitement. To her relief Sanada suggested that they get out of the heat by going to a tea house-cum-cafe he knew of in the vicinity. It wasn't his favorite (Bunta said that his favorite place probably had koi ponds and pasty-faced geisha serving horrible hot tea), but it would serve.

Not long after they entered the cafe Sakuno felt her cell phone buzz in her little bag. The number was her grandmother's. She waved the others on ahead to find seats while she took the call.

"Grandma?"

"Hello, Sa-chan. Have you been having fun?"

"What's the matter, Grandma? Are you okay?" She remembered what had happened at the invitational camp three years ago—had her grandmother been taking her medicines lately? She could not remember. She could only remember the panic, the smell of the hospital, the sweaty face from that morning two days ago.

"I'm fine, Sa-chan. I think I've stayed out too long in the sun. I've got a mother of a headache and I feel a bit tired. I've decided to go home, take it easy for the rest of the festival. Natsuko will take me home."

"But-"

"I'm sorry I won't be able to see the fireworks with you, Sa-chan. But there's always Obon, right? You'll have to tell me how nice they're going to be."

"No, Grandma, wait. You don't have to go back home alone. I'll be right there. I'll just tell everyone that I have to go and I'll come find you."

"Oh, come on now, Sakuno. Aren't you having a nice time? Those Rikkai boys are being nice to you, aren't they?"

Of course they were, Sakuno said, and she was having fun, but that didn't mean she could just run around while her Grandma sat at home feeling ill.

It might have been the cell phone's natural distortion but her grandmother's voice sounded heavy with fatigue even as she gave that familiar dry laugh. "You don't have to worry, Sa-chan. I don't want you to miss out on your fun. After all Sanada went through this morning, we should show how grateful we are by being polite. It'd insult him if you didn't acknowledge his and Rikkai's hospitality by making the most of it."

"But Grandma, you might need help. I'll come over right away." But Sumire Ryuuzaki would hear none of it. All of Sakuno's protests and concerns were peremptorily dismissed. There was the sound of car doors closing as her grandmother said a firm goodbye, then nothing.

Her first idea was to simply rush out of there. The Rikkai team didn't need her. Yet it would be rude to leave without a word, and if she told anyone that she was headed back home questions would follow. They would probably laugh at her for overreacting. Still, she would rather be laughed at than have to be dragged out to the hospital-

The world turned bright yellow and florid in her vision. She walked around in a little circle, fingers clenching and relaxing. She had to act.

The boys had selected two large booths to seat the party, a few of them milling about in the aisle as they considered their orders. Yukimura noticed her approach. With a knowing glance at her and then a flick of his chin towards Sanada and Yanagi, he told the others to go and give their orders. The other regulars had become so accustomed to recognizing one of Yukimura's iron demands that they moved off. Not even Marui or Kirihara said anything.

"You're troubled. Is anything wrong, Ryuuzaki-san?"

Yukimura's voice was as delicate as his smile, his eyes resting upon her stormy brow and lips. Sakuno almost found him insincere if she had not recalled what her senpai had told her about this fragile-seeming smiler. His still waters ran deep. Even if he did just smile at her, it was better than being laughed at.

"I have to go, Yukimura-san," she blurted when he asked her what the matter was. "Something's come up at home. I'll just take a cab or the bus—I don't know, but I'll get there somehow. Please."

He gestured to the seat beside him. "Slow down, Ryuuzaki-chan. Here. Let's consider this a minute. Sit down and at least have something to drink."

She did not want to do as he said; he had to take her hand to get her to sit. Seeing as she would not get anywhere with him by being stubborn, she tried to explain. "My grandmother, she's not feeling well. She says she'll be all right, she's going home, but I don't want to be away from her. She's had problems. What if something happened?"

Yukimura listened to her, eyes intent but his lips still curling. He had the smile of a Buddha and in that instant Sakuno felt insulted by it, by his simply smiling at her while she fretted and her poor Grandma went home to lie down and forgo wishing on the Tanabata streamers. She was not in the mood for any smiles. He could drift off to go waltz with the rabbit in the Moon for all she cared. Her tumbling thoughts could only think of Grandma, how to excuse herself and get back to Auntie's house—

"What are you afraid happened?" Yukimura asked, deceptive voice light. "It seems to me that your grandmother has a headache. And that she probably shouldn't stay out so long in the heat."

"It never bothered her so much before." Sakuno did not know how to tell him; he couldn't know how vital her Grandma used to be. If she had been truly healthy her grandmother wouldn't have felt so poorly.

He nodded at her. "Let me guess again. You're afraid that she's not telling you the whole truth. That she's just blowing it off so you won't worry so much."

The fear had begun when she was very young, after her mother's passing away and then her father's; she had still been so young, her memories so incomplete that it did not seem quite real, like the fears in nightmares that are easily dispelled. Then her grandmother had suffered that awful illness during middle school. The fear had only grown. One day she was going to be gone from home for a while, her grandmother not feeling up to snuff but neither of them troubling themselves over it, and when she came back her grandmother would have gone.

"When you put it like that—I suppose it sounds silly. But I can't imagine living without Grandma. But sometimes I can't help but think about it. I don't know what I would do without her."

Yukimura continued to smile and, to her great chagrin, she detected small chuckles while he finished sipping his tea in some ritual of contemplation. The small laughter did not contain mockery or unkindness, yet it stung her apprehensions into annoyance. On some level she knew he did not intend to make light of her—nevertheless, how could he treat a subject he was too familiar with in such a way? He had some nerve, she thought wildly.

She thumped her hands solidly against the table. The breach in etiquette probably would have sent Sanada-san reeling but such things were far beyond her consideration now.

"Yukimura-san, I am sure you don't intend to be, but I think you are being very rude. My Grandma does not feel well and I am not happy. You know how worried I am." Voicing her thoughts brought back the fear. She fumbled around for her purse and parasol.

"I should be getting back anyway. Please tell the others that I had a fun time with them, but something came up and I had to go. If you will excuse me."

The very tips of his fingers reached across the table to brush her yukata sleeve. A small crease had formed between Yukimura's eyebrows and his eyes leveled such grave understanding that she allowed herself to be settled down again.

"Ryuuzaki-san, I smile at this situation because I know how it is. I also know how silly and useless it is to worry over such things." His arm squeezed gently around her shoulders. Sakuno could feel how slender Yukimura was underneath his festival clothes. They sat propped up against each other like two adjacent flowers whose stems have been snapped and their leaning together is the only thing that keeps them from falling to the ground.

"Please, consider a moment. Your grandmother has a history of illness, yes, but tell me: did she sound like she was in pain? Has she been very sick recently? From what I gather, most of the time she enjoys normal health. All your grandmother needs to do is lie down and rest, maybe take an aspirin or two. That's hardly anything to despair about! If she were seriously ill don't you think she would have told you?"

"She could just be trying to reassure me. She wouldn't want me to worry." She would have continued but her companion had shaken his head, sighing.

"She wouldn't want you to worry if it was only a headache and fatigue, Ryuuzaki-chan. I will tell you that one of the worst things about illness is making your loved ones worry about you all the time. However, I can also tell you this. It's even worse for you to outright lie to them, to tell them not to be concerned when they by all rights should be. Only an idiot would pretend that they're all right when they're not. And it sounds to me like your grandmother is no idiot."

The words were spoken with a kindness that only made her feel ashamed. Here she'd been going on, snapping at him, when he knew more about sickness than she ever had. She might have been lecturing a carpenter about his woodworking or trying to tell Picasso all about Cubism.

She bowed her head to him and asked for his forgiveness.

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "The only thing we ask is for you to enjoy yourself. From what I can tell, Sanada's well-being and good graces with your family depend on it."

That made her laugh in relief. She brushed a napkin over her face to wipe away her distress as the others came forward on tentative steps. When it seemed all was clear, they began taking their seats and piled up the orders of snacks and drinks.

"I had figured it would end like this. Everything is all right, isn't it?" Yanagi looked at them for confirmation of his hypothesis. Kirihara had engaged Sakuno with trying to get her to taste some of his bistro-style french fries but she managed to break away and give him a little smile.

"Yes," she agreed. "Things'll be all right."

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Following their refreshment at the cafe, hitting the festival streets did not strike Sakuno's fancy. She had been to enough booths to satisfy her craving for the experience, the heat and snacks had sapped away all desire for any kind of food, but most of all she did not want any more potential run-ins that brought more harm than good. There had already been two blots on an otherwise lovely day; she did not want more.

So she let her shoulders and face relax as Sanada announced that they would now head towards their tennis club courts for an hour's practice. Everyone had known about it, but that did not stop the flurry of complaints from the expected people.

"It's Tanabata. You can't make us practice on Tanabata!" moaned Kirihara.

"Tyranny," grunted Niou.

"I'm all filled with cake and tea. If I do any exercise now, Fukubuchou, I'll blow chunks everywhere."

The others took the news with equanimity—and, judging from experience with Fuji-senpai, Yukimura almost acted delighted by the prospect. Despite that, the lagging, drowsy spirits of half of the team made the walk to the school more like a death-march.

After changing, Sanada forced the team through their warm-ups and drills. It may have been the heat or all of the fatty festival foods they'd eaten, but despite everyone's best efforts vigor was lacking. Only Yukimura and Yanagi performed with no signs of lagging or distress. This drove Sanada into cold sternness as he ordered them all to take another ten laps around the course. The prospect of more sweat and running and beatings with the bokuto did not improve morale. Yukimura himself was about to step in when Sakuno formed an idea. It was a variation on Inui-senpai's methods, really, but she hoped her own way of bribing the suffering would prove a better incentive than Inui Juice.

"I'll have fresh water ready when you're all done. And," she beamed at them all, trying to bolster them, "tomorrow I'll bake a great big Dobes Torte for whoever finishes the laps first!"

"What's Dobes Torte?" The foreign word rolled clumsily on Marui's tongue, but that may have been because of the saliva dripping from it.

"Oh, I think all of you would like it. It's a big cake from Hungary, and it's made from chocolate and nuts and it's supposed to have a nice caramel topping that you cut into wedges—"

With all the surprising, lithe movements of a ninja and the violence of a rogue elephant, Marui had shoved past everyone in his way. He even knocked poor Jackal to the ground and gave Kirihara a kick to the shin in his passage. Marui was very fast, but his lead dwindled quickly. He wasn't the only one who could appreciate a fine sweet bribe and the famous Rikkai competitive spirit rose in full force. The seven regulars stampeded around the course, cursing and swiping at each other or sprinting at top speed in stony silence. Only Sakuno and Yukimura were left standing in the dust.

She was still trying to process what exactly happened in the five seconds before this. The full horror of her unthinking offer only came to her as she felt Yukimura put a gentle hand on her shoulder. He looked at her with full approval.

"That was some good, swift thinking, Ryuuzaki-chan. I couldn't have come up with a better way to go about it myself. Let's sit back and enjoy."

Her voluminous plum-blossom sleeves covered her face from that happy smile. "I'm so ashamed."

He kept on chuckling as he lead her over to sit on a bench in the shade to watch the carnage. "I've never seen such enthusiasm. I might have to ask you to cook for us every practice, Ryuuzaki-chan. We'll recapture the Nationals in no time. And it's all thanks to you."

To distract him Sakuno asked why he himself wasn't running with the others. It was because, he said, that he had done well enough in the warm-ups and someone needed to be around to serve as host to her. Also, whoever came in first would be contractually obligated to let him have a taste of the prize. It was nice to be captain.

The race ended in a seven-way tie. To keep fistfights at bay, Sakuno, bemused, agreed to make a Dobes Torte (or the pastry of their choice) for each of them. "Well," she tried to console herself, "I could always use the extra practice. Seven cakes—that's not so bad."

"Eight," Yukimura gently reminded her with his smile. He pinched her cheek when she turned her most hangdog expression upon him.

Yet another idea hit her at that moment. She knew it would be stretching her tenuous new friendships near the snapping point but she had taken risks before this. And if it did work, the rewards would be worth it.

"Actually, I have an idea." Her left leg quivered with nerves. Realizing she had gone in too deep now, she forced herself to finish the suggestion. "Since I'm going to—to be making food for you all, perhaps...Perhaps maybe for the next few days while I'm here, you all can come to my aunt's house? I'm p-practicing my cooking, see, and I would like to have someone tell me how to improve, test things out." At all the stares upon her she felt her bravery run out. "Never mind, please, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It's such an imposition. Please forgive me."

"Let me get this straight," Jackal spoke very slowly. "You're basically saying that for several days, you want us to come over to your place to taste-test your cooking. To eat."

"And you expected us to say NO?" Bunta shouted, his stupefaction at the joyous news finally blowing over. He leaped about, did a cartwheel, and then vaulted over to give her a huge hug from behind, waltzing around with her like a rag doll. "Yes, we'll be there. Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm so happy! And you smell like muffins!"

Mild whiplash notwithstanding, tingles of giddiness shivered up Sakuno's spine; she had never made anyone act so happily before. Then, as the circulation in her arms tingled for air, she wondered if all redheads in Japan were as hug-happy as her Eiji-senpai. She also decided not to give his compliment of her scent the dignity of an answer. He didn't let her go until Kirihara started yelling and practically started to pry his fingers away.

"Well, I see no harm in it, and Marui seems in favor of it. Just tell us how to get to your aunt's house and when to come. It should be interesting, don't you agree, Genichirou?"

She could have slapped herself for her thoughtlessness. There poor Sanada stood, rigid and in perfect-stop motion, one of his eyes crossed just like he was cutting a _mie _in a Kabuki.

"It's all right, Sanada-san," she said to him. "You don't have to come. I really only need one person to help, and since Marui-san is so willing—"

"Hey! Don't forget about me. I want to come too," Kirihara shouted. She did not know why he sounded so annoyed. Niou and, to her surprise, even Jackal and Yagyuu chimed in their curiosity to try things out. The others would be glad to follow suit.

"It is—fine," ground out Sanada, at length. "Please, leave me out of it. Everyone else doesn't mind."

Everyone made jabs at him about team spirit and sacrifice, but Sanada held firm. Sakuno couldn't fault him for it.

Sanada then barked out that they needed to resume practice. Sakuno went over to sit back down on the sidelines when Kirihara bounded over to her.

"Hey, Saku-chan," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you. You've played tennis, right? Come on and lob a few balls with me and Yanagi-senpai. We've got spare racquets for you."

"I'm wearing a yukata, silly," she laughed, but he only grinned and pulled her forward.

"So what? You can still move your arms and legs, can't you? It's no fun just sitting there. You can also so some practice against the wall. Come on! Say, do you have any special moves?"

"You mean like Fuji-senpai's Brown Bear or the Tezuka Zone? Well—only one. I came up with it in middle school. It's not anything spectacular."

"What's it called? Come on, don't be like that, I wanna hear it."

" 'The Fanciful Unicorn.'"

"Uhh—nice, I guess. Maybe you can show it to us."

It was embarrassing and she didn't know why he wanted her in when she was so woefully under their level, but it was very kind of them to include her. Really, when they weren't in full competitive mode, Rikkai wasn't so bad.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

The last scraps of the afternoon passed without further incident. Having regained something of her former cheer after another call from her grandmother, safely resting at the house, she abandoned any idea of heading home early. They headed over to a small park that offered a clear view of the sky where the fireworks would appear.

Bamboo poles streamed with long bits of paper furled with the wishes for the Weaving Princess and Herdsboy. Little children played with little cows made from vegetables as their parents caroused on the grass. Drinks and food offered their scents into the warm, wafting breezes. Some people had brought out little sparklers and small fireworks of their own, so Niou whipped out a Roman candle before anyone could stop him and set it off near a teenage couple engaged in heavy petting.

They found someone who gave them slips of paper and writing utensils for their own wishes; Sakuno liked the tradition, so she took the materials and began thinking about a good wish. There were so many things she wanted to go right.

"I'll wish for a million cakes from Sakuno-chan," cried Marui. "A million!" It was a good thing that wishes spoken aloud never came true.

If she were younger, she might have written down all sorts of things. For a comet to come crashing down on Hyotei and end her troubles; for her grandmother to live till one hundred; for a future crush to fall hopelessly in love with her—all these things.

She finally wrote this on the paper: 'I want to live.'

Just after she wrote it she felt embarrassed, so she got some more paper and wrote down wishes for a rocket car and to become an Iron Chef.

The main fireworks show started; the sky above flashed down green, red, and gold sparks of light in the shapes pf pinwheels, dumbbells, comet bursts. Somehow the group had squeezed themselves together like salted herring in the massive congregation of people. The only thing to make it better would be if her grandmother had been there with them.

She also wondered if her mother and aunt had stood on a hill when they were younger to watch the celebration and make their own wishes. What had her mother wished for all those years ago?

The slip of concentration lasted far longer than she thought because Yagyuu had pulled her a little out of the way for the dispersing crowd. It was all over; nothing left to do now but say goodbyes.

She bowed to the Rikkai team in thanks and apology for their trouble, saying goodnight to each one of them in turn. Niou scoffed at her and tugged at her hair, saying that she had no business being so formal to them when they were going to see her the next freaking afternoon. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Sanada nearly had to chase off Marui and Kirihara because they wouldn't stop asking her about what kinds of food she was going to prepare, wanting a schedule for the entire week (she hadn't planned that far ahead). When they finally stood alone, Sanada herded her home. He was silent, as usual, but the expected awkwardness was well worth a safe trip home.

They stopped half a block away from the house. The street had good evening lighting and Sanada refused to get any closer to the place than he had to; he trusted that she could go that far on her own without any misfortune befalling her.

"Oh! Sanada-san, I have something for you." Sakuno remembered the gift she had purchased. The brush in its case came out of the bag and went into his fingers. His eyebrows arched; he did not look quite as stern that way. "I've heard that you practice calligraphy, Sanada-san, and I wanted to give you something to repay for your trouble today. You've been very gracious."

The brush-case turned around in his long fingers. Sanada bowed his head to her, his manner grave as ever. "I thank you." He sucked in a breath as if anticipating a shot-needle or dentist visit. "And—I shall come for lunch tomorrow with the team."

Awed by the great power of civility and reciprocity, Sakuno could only gaze after him as he left her to her own devices. This meant that she would have to work all the harder to make her practice meals as delicious and well-made as possible, if only for the sake of the long-suffering. Her head ballooned with all of the things, the dishes that she could make—there was so much to choose from.

Halfway homewards she became wrapped in thinking up ways to break the news to her aunt that a swarm of teenage boys would be converging on the house. Not looking where she was going, she tripped over a crack in the pavement and skinned her knee.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

A little over a week passed. During those days, at every single lunchtime, the Rikkai players fulfilled their promise. Unlike most promises, however, this one was completed with no real conflicts, complications, or complaints. Every culinary experiment sent the players off to their normal routines stuffed and happy. Bunta was at peak performance, fueled by the armloads of sugary treats Sakuno bestowed upon him in practicing her baking techniques. Natsuko had even been so gracious as to help whip up some authentic Brazilian dishes for Jackal, who nearly died of nostalgia. Yanagi gave her the most helpful tips, suggesting ways she could better enhance her flavors or more accurately measure her ingredients. Even Sanada was happy because she went out of her way to create the most traditional dishes for him.

School started two days after Sakuno returned to Tokyo. It was then that a series of most unfortunate consequences occurred.

The first consequence, Niou Masaharu discovered, was that Bunta spiraled into melancholy. His energy waned. When confronted by his concerned captain and vice-captain, the poor sap spread himself face-down on a school bench and nearly sobbed.

"It's just not the same. Hardly anything tastes good anymore. Only my two favorite bakeries serve stuff as good as Ryuuzaki-chan's, and they're so expensive I can't go every day. Augh!" He flopped around onto his back like a gaffed salmon, fists curled up in agitation. "Those sweets of Ryuuzaki-chan's were sweeter than sweetness itself. Stupid everyday cupcakes and that horrible cake they serve in the cafeteria are bitter as poison! I spit them out! Ptooey!"

It was one of the most pathetic scenes Niou had heard about, glad he hadn't been around to witness the tragedy. Worse, the team had to take up a whole collection fund so that Bunta could regain his sugary equilibrium and play up to standard. That really burned both Niou and Kirihara—why did they have to fork over good money so that Bunta could get over being spoiled? It sucked. But they couldn't protest too much or the beatings would begin.

Speaking of Kirihara—there was unforeseen consequence number two. Ever since they had made their re-acquaintance in Tokyo weeks ago, Kirihara had found Ryuuzaki cute. That was strange in of itself—Kirihara didn't pay much attention to cute. Even stranger was the fact that since the festival Aka-chan had also been going into a downward spiral of a different kind. The kid either called, mailed, or texted Ryuuzaki almost every day, starting when she had still been visiting. Niou had decided it wasn't a bad thing to stay in touch with her as well, but you didn't see him falling over his feet to send the girl lame stories, jokes, and questions about her day.

The only good thing Niou and the others could say was that it at least it didn't affect Kirihara's own performance. The kid was as good a Junior Ace as ever. The team was content to leave it at that for now.

"It seems it is just a crush, Buchou," Yanagi had reported. "Crushes are nothing."

"That's good," their captain had murmured. "I'd hate to intervene. She's a nice girl and has the most extraordinary hair. She was very fun to tease, too."

"Maybe she'll get bullied so badly by those Hyotei people," Bunta had offered, "that she'll have to transfer out of town. And then she could come here. And then we could eat all the cakes we desire!" He had received a slap to the back of the neck and an order to do fifty laps backwards around the courts for that.

Yes, Niou had to admit, things for the season were hitting their low point like a flaming sack of crap. It was only fortunate that Rikkai was still number one in their region; they had plenty of time to recuperate. Otherwise that girl would find herself pining for the days of Hyotei's meddling after Buchou got hold of her.

These musings had occurred as he walked through the school library, searching for Kirihara. The brat had needed some help with his English class and Niou had drawn the short straw for that dubious honor. Looking around, he didn't find his target right away; he did spy a familiar laptop on a study table. Kirihara must have been off getting some more books. He'd have to put some itching powder down the kid's pants to teach him not to keep an upperclassman waiting.

Niou pulled up a chair next to Kirihara's. As he did so he looked over at the screen. It was on, windows open, and totally vulnerable. Maybe he didn't need the itching powder. How foolish for the brat to let his guard down so easily!

Niou took one glance at the computer screen and then and there the point of no return was passed.

It turned out that for the past few minutes Kirihara hadn't been doing any English studying. He had, in fact, been working on manipulating a picture, one from the memory card they had confiscated from those three Seigaku losers. It had been from the group shot, but the kid taking it had forgotten to zoom out the lens on the first try so the picture contained only Kirihara, Sanada, and Sakuno.

Or it would have, except that Kirihara had blotted Sanada out, leaving only the two remaining. The background had been altered to that of a beach scene. Next to them was the pasted-in picture of what Niou conceded to be a totally sweet red Porsche. Kirihara had edited sunglasses on to his face and Niou knew the kid's arms weren't quite _that_ beefy. One arm was around Sakuno'shoulders, the other hand bounced a tennis ball with a racquet. And there was a pile of tennis trophies at Kirihara's feet.

The temptation was too much. He had never seen such a goldmine of comedy before; he'd be a sucker if he didn't take advantage of this.

He took in the photo, still in the process of manipulation but so close to being finished—only a few touches to go—and sat down at the machine, his adroit fingers flying for his almighty crusade for mischief. Polish up an edge here, contrast the colors better there, and the picture was complete enough to save and send.

Next, Niou logged onto the internet and went to the e-mail account main page where all Rikkai Dai students logged in to use their campus mail. Being well versed in the ways of such skullduggery, he had managed the other day to catch Yanagi in the act of making a new password. He had clearly seen which keys and in what sequence Yanagi had typed them. Since Renji did not use his school account as his main source of electronic communication, Niou's normally wary and keen friend had not been as careful as he should have.

One chance was all Niou needed. He had jotted down that juicy piece of info as quick as if he were writing down a super-model's phone number. Now was the time. He had a feeling this opportunity would only come once before Yanagi caught wise.

Under Yanagi's account, Niou dashed off a perfunctory message and put in Inui Sadaharu's name for the recipient. He looked at the picture one last time in satisfaction.

'Now, Aka-chan, it's time to learn you a lesson!_'_ Niou didn't dare say anything out loud, so he indulged in laughing like a loon purely inside his head. Watching Akaya deal with this would be too sweet.

Just before he attached the photo to the e-mail, Niou gave himself pause. Something felt lacking.

'I know,' came the epiphany. 'I think I'll add a cup size or two to Sakuno-chan there. Sexy it up a bit. Get some cleavage showing through that yukata. Yeah.' He only hesitated once at the thought of what this could mean.

'Nah. Every girl wants a nicer rack. If she ever sees this, she'll thank me.'

_Click._

_UPCOMING: "Sakuno! You—are—a—slut!" Plus a bonus chapter. Only two more chapters and an epilogue to go!_


	10. Omake: Bountiful Bosomed Bonus Chapter

_Notes: Once again I delay in putting out chapters. I apologize to everyone. Remember, though, only two more plus epilogue to go. I hope this monster can be done by April._

_This chapter is in-continuity, but since it doesn't focus on Sakuno like the rest of the story, but instead on the reactions of the other schools once Niou's picture got sent (and forwarded to almost all of the other tennis team captains), I felt it had to considered a bonus chapter. It's less polished, I think, than the other parts of the story and it is VERY dialog-heavy, but I liked some of the ideas in it so much that I wanted to share them. I hope they're at least good for a few laughs. BOOB JOKES ARE FUNNY DAMMIT.  
_

_Patience will be rewarded. The conclusion of this long-ass story will come!_

OMAKE: BONUS CHAPTER

_At the Seishun High tennis courts_

Inui Sadaharu believed that very few things were beyond the realm of possibility. In strict theory, he considered nothing impossible unless it had been conclusively proved to be so by his own observation, and not on hearsay from any other source. He currently believed, for example, that the existence of unicorns was roughly 0.00000000000001 percent probable. The odds of Tezuka-buchou smiling ever since he was a baby and gas attacks had been confused for joy had to be written down in scientific notation to avoid filling an entire page with zeros.

The picture plastered within the confines of the laptop screen upon which he gazed, uncomprehending, had never warranted a calculation or consideration. By his own standards Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster having a splendid wedding in the middle of Tokyo (he had dreamed about it once when he was ten and hadn't been able to resist) would have more basis in probability than this—aberration.

Seigaku's tennis regulars and Echizen Ryoma, who was guaranteed to sign up for the team once the semester began next week, had gathered on the courts for practice. Everyone's focus had remained unbroken, tinged with a desperate desire to catch and preserve these fleeting moments of their last season together as a team where nothing else could overrule their love of tennis before hard necessity rearranged priorities. With nine people in the courts, Inui had agreed to be the odd man out and dispense drinks when needed, and he had been making his usual observations and calculations. He continued to put his complete faith in his wire-ringed notebooks but having his computer handy was always useful; during a break between matches Inui decided to quickly scan his e-mail accounts for anything worthy of record.

Being sent a recipe for making an atomic bomb in his own back yard would have proved less a conundrum than the—thing—sent by his once unimpeachable childhood friend.

Or could Yanagi have done such a thing? A seed of doubt blossomed within Inui's naturally skeptical brain, but he found that he could not do mental calculations when apparently he couldn't even get one his kouhai's three sizes correct.

"And what are you looking at, Inui?" Oishi's voice chirped as he came over for a hit of energy drink. Inui broke out of his trance and raised his hand to slam the laptop shut in a futile race to prevent the meltdown; he swore he could sense the brain cells in his vice-captain's head fusing together in that terrible instant.

"AN ABOMINATION," said Oishi.

"What's an abomination, nyah?"

The shriek had everyone else at practice come running to find the source of the tumult. Eiji pounced upon Oishi's back, got an eyeful, and blurted out a description of the picture to all the players who were unable to see. "Ryuuzaki-chan is with another man who's not O-chibi and has her hair down!"

"Who's with her, Eiji-senpai? Tell me so I can go beat up his punk ass," trumpeted Momoshiro in his defiance and outrage; his finger joints popped with slapping one fist into his open palm. Kaidoh then expressed his doubt that Momo could beat up anyone, which naturally would have erupted into another argument if not for Eiji's timely answer.

"Ah, he looks buffer than I remember, but I think it's Kirihara, nyah."

Momo amended his speech without a beat. "In that case I say we let Echizen and maybe Kaidoh do the job."

"Figures you're not up to it after all. I guess Kirihara's too tough for you," sneered Kaidoh.

In a miraculous fit of clear-headedness Momo did not follow up on the bait, settling instead for slamming his knuckles into the crown of Ryoma's head and jerking his teammate's head around and pointing at the laptop screen. "Now look at that, Echizen! See what you did. This is all your fault."

"My fault? I didn't do anything." More than two years abroad had not done much to shave away the apathy to everything not-tennis which encased Ryoma like a reptilian patina. Only the twisting of his lip at the photo indicated he had noticed it at all.

"Exactly! You didn't do anything. That's why Ryuuzaki-chan is posing with _her hair down_ with a buff Kirihara _next to an awesome car on the beach_! Because you're stupid!"

Jerking away from Momo's accusations, Ryoma did not give the dignity of a response but took a disdainful swig out of his Ponta can. A few paltry drops were all that remained, so the can was quickly crushed underfoot. Momo ceased railing and smirked knowingly.

In the meantime the other team members were taking in the horror. Tezuka had gone totally rigid, so motionless that Inui hurried to mix a potent juice to hold under his captain's nose in an attempt to snap him out of his stupor. Kaidoh dismissed the whole thing as stupid and Eiji kept chattering away to both Oishi and Fuji.

"Nyah, isn't Ryuuzaki-chan's hair so pretty? It looks all warm and snuggly like one of my bears. I could roll up in it like a blanket. D'you think she'd let me snorgle with it when school starts again, Oishi? Eh? Oishi? Are you listening to me, Oiiiiiiiishi?"

At the sudden jerk of his mount's back, Eiji tumbled to the ground. Oishi's mind had appeared to snap along with control of his voice box volume, his wide eyes filled with blank horrors only his hennish mind could envision.

"THIS IS TERRIBLE. WE CAN'T EVEN PROTECT OUR OWN KOHAI. WE HAVE FAILED. WE ARE THE WORST SENPAI EVER."

"Nyah, Oishi, it's not so bad—" Thinking that glomps could act like a white blood cell enveloping and destroying a virus, Eiji tried to envelop his friend's distress in a hug. Oishi would not be consoled.

"WORST SENPAI EVER."

In his usual cheer, Fuji breezed through the team closer to the pixellated heart of darkness. He peered with searching and open eyes at the digital photograph for a brief time before straightening, his benevolent smile silencing everyone else. "You all know it's fake, don't you? It's clearly a manipulation."

"Well—obviously parts are," said Momo. "I mean, the car and the beach probably. But what's real and what's not? Could—could _they _be real?" His hands hovered with their palms turned outward, turning in dial-cranking motions. "It's not that I've ever looked, but I didn't think they had gotten so—well, you know. Ow! Damn." He bounced on one foot to massage his abused toes, upon which Ryoma's racket, slipped from his hand, had crashed. "I said I've never looked!"

"Accident," grunted Ryoma.

Fuji chuckled. "Of course they're not real. You can trust me, I know these things. I'm a photographer."

"Senpai!" Kaidoh alone had the ability to try and shame the shameless; everyone else leveled out scandalized glares.

"Oh, come on. My sister always told me that the human body is a work of art and should be appreciated. Besides, there's no harm in it. Everybody thinks we're all gay anyway."

"THEY DO?" asked Oishi.

"Why else are we so popular with the girls at school?" Fuji rejoined kindly, gently as if leading a child through a difficult lesson. Oishi nodded. " YOU MAKE AN UNDERSTANDABLE AND VALID POINT."

Amidst all of this falderal Tezuka stood motionless, speechless, seemingly senseless, sucking all external stimuli past the event horizon of his own gravity; two distinct red blotches like the great storm on Jupiter whorled onto his cheeks. The words that calmly erupted were mild and all the more terrible for being so.

"I am going into the locker rooms to make a call. No one is to follow me."

One of Fuji's eyelids cracked open in glee. "To Sanada, yes? Are you planning on being nasty, Kunimitsu?"

"It will be a very strongly-worded call," was all the reply Fuji received. "As for the rest of you, get back to work. Quickly. Inui will take my place against you, Echizen. Every second you're not on the court means ten extra laps."

The familiar old threat sent all of the regulars hustling away despite some players' longing to shadow their captain and listen in on his strongly-worded call in the hope of being present for the momentous occasion when Tezuka finally demonstrated whether he knew any curse words. Straggling behind the others as he walked back to his court, Ryoma gave the picture one last rueful glance, smirking at those ridiculous massy waves of hair. He had always been sure that that hair was just dead weight and only made her more clumsy by putting her off-center. It was amazing, really, the damage that one girl could do without even being there.

Ryoma pulled down the brim of his cap over his eyes.

"Ryuuzaki, you're still nothing but trouble for me."

_At the Atobe household_

"This is an affront Ore-sama's intelligence and sensibility."

A dismissive wave at the computer had the faithful Kabaji toting the offending thing away from Atobe's sight, soon to be cast away from mind as well. If anyone were to dare suggest that he had the most miniscule of faults, Atobe would have considered the complaint arose from simple derangement; so if anyone had the temerity to hint that he was stupid or unobservant, he would not think anything of it. Did an elephant waste time on stomping upon the ant? No, his powers of perception were unequaled, and Atobe could spot a manipulated photo with but a single glance.

"It does amuse Ore-sama that they tried to trick him by sending that—thing—from one of Yanagi's e-mail accounts. Did they think Ore-sama so gullible? Even, oh, say, Kintarou from Shitenhouji could tell that Yanagi would never do such a thing. Ore-sama wagers that it was probably Niou's doing. Isn't that right, Kabaji?"

"Ossu." The phrase was spoken with slightly more conviction than was Kabaji's wont, and, in an instance that was becoming increasingly rarer nowadays, Atobe's other teammates had to agree. Choutarou expressed confusion about the random elements in the photograph and the judicious alterations, to which Shishido gave the standard curt reply: "Because Niou's a punk-ass pimple on society's ass. All that switching around with his partner's damaged his brains. Kirihara's pretty much the same. I bet they were in on it together. Ryuuzaki probably doesn't have a clue yet."

"Poor Ryuuzaki-chan," sighed Choutarou. "It's too silly to be taken seriously, but I bet she'll be teased for it—" As the implications fully unfurled themselves to him, his pale cheeks grew chalky, the hairs at his temple dampening. "Maybe we should call her and tell her about it? It'd be good to give her a warning."

Lounging in his chair, Atobe stretched out his luxurious legs in a yawn and gave yet another wave. "Nonsense. What've we got to do with it? Tezuka has plenty of sense and initiative—otherwise he would not be fit to be Ore-sama's rival. Seigaku can take care of their own. Ore-sama does not see how there could be any fuss. It's just a totally manipulated picture, that's all. Fake chest, fake arms, fake hair. Bah!"

Oshitari had detained Kabaji, stopping him from closing out the screens on the computer before closing it; the pixels reflected in the lenses of his glasses under his scrutiny. A few seconds later, lips light in an expression that the team knew boded nothing good, he made his pronouncement.

"The hair's not fake."

That brought Atobe's languid neck snapping up, brows knit. "Come again, Oshitari?"

"Her hair's not fake. It's naturally like that. Nothing's been altered about it."

"What! You're joking. Kabaji, bring that back right now. Ore-sama must take a closer look. There's just no way."

He glared at the computer, taking it all in again, and as the seconds passed his teeth grated together, his hands reached up to stroke his own fine-styled hair for reassurance. From the way his fingers grasped at the strands the others could tell that Atobe was weighing and measuring, only to find something lacking. Oshitari propped up his glasses with a jaunty twinkle.

"I must say, when her hair is down you see what good care she uses in taking care of it. She must have spent years on growing it out. Don't you agree, Ootori?"

"It's—nice, I guess," murmured Choutarou. He looked to Shishido for support and found nothing but scorn. All gazes were still riveted on their captain, who finally slammed down the computer screen and kicked at the plug to rip it from the wall. He pronounced his opinion in even and measured tones.

"Ore-sama thinks that, despite his magnanimous heart, he's beginning to hate this girl just a little bit."

"Oh, great," muttered Hiyoshi and Gakuto.

"And why's that," drawled Jirou from the couch.

" Why? You ask why? She's insulted Ore-sama on numerous occasions, spurned his generosity, brought that harpy friend of hers into his own house, called his hair inferior to that of Yukimura, and now she _dares _to flaunt her _own_ hair at him. As if Ore-sama were nothing! The nerve of it all! Ore-sama is her equal_—_"

"But not her superior, eh?" laughed Gakuto, enjoying this dance around the wounded dragon very much.

"Ore-sama demands that you shut up."

"Maybe if you hadn't shaved your hair back in middle school, you'd have surpassed her by now. But I guess we'll never know now, will we?" asked Oshitari.

"Silence! How could Ore-sama know that someone could possibly match the splendor of his own hair when it was always put up in—those—stupid—dinky—infantile pigtails? The deceitful wench! Oh, but she shows her hair to _Rikkai Dai, _does she? She and Yukimura were probably spending their time braiding each other's hair and putting little flowers behind their ears and laughing at Ore-sama behind his back! Conspiracy!"

Somehow managing to wheel upon them while still sitting in his chair, Atobe sliced the air with his hand. "None of you are to ever make contact with Ryuuzaki or Seigaku before the contest. I forbid it! So what if she's had a stupid picture of herself taken—that's obviously what she wanted, to gain attention to that stupid, lustrous, magnificent hair. Let her have her attention if she wants it so badly!"

Any attempts by Ootori to appeal to Atobe's better availed nothing.

Eventually, as Atobe kept on stewing and fuming in a black sulk, the remainder of the team sneaked away from the room to head towards the courts. Whenever Atobe was in a rare funk, his preferred coping mechanism was to hit the courts and practice the team until they bled. It was best to get things over with as soon as possible.

"Give him about a day," nodded Hiyoshi. "He usually cools off by then. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid. I swear, if he calls Ryuuzaki to bitch about her hair—"

"He will," said Oshitari.

"This is terrible. It just keeps getting worse and worse. Why does it keep on getting worse and worse?" moaned Ootori.

"You do all realize that our captain is going mad with jealousy, don't you," said Shishido. Gakuto, mind on the grueling practice in store for them, gave a mere shrug.

"He's a true genius, yo. Lots of geniuses are bug-ass crazy."

And to this sage assessment no other words could be added.

_At the Tachibana household_

Tachibana Ann saw her brother hunched over his computer screen in such rapt concentration that he did not turn his head in the slightest at her passing footsteps. Ann's face twisted and she crept behind him on tigerlike tread. She did always take such delight in ratting on his prurient interests, even if the very thought of her older brother enjoying the greatest Internet pastime did oil her skin with a skeezy coat that only multiple showers could wash away.

"Heya, big brother! Looking at something that mom should know about?" she blared out, taking great satisfaction in how high he jumped out of his chair. Her arms slipped around his neck in a loose choke hold as she braced herself for whatever dirty picture was to meet her scrutiny; upon taking in the scene she squeezed her forearms in a vice around Kippei's neck.

"You pig," she shrieked. "What the hell is this? Why are you looking at it? How dare you treat my friend Sakuno-chan like this! Ass-kicking awaits you!"

Kippei managed to avoid his ass-kicking with difficulty. Many appeals to her common sense and reason, that he never would do such a thing to his sister's friend, that he had thought the e-mail safe because of its origin, finally quelled Ann's wrath. She settled for venting her spleen in other directions as she paced tight circles around the room.

"Why is she hanging out with Kirihara? He's pure evil and crabass incarnate. She knows what he's like. Why's she giving him the time of day? Maybe he's faking being nice to her so he can draw her in and then—! No, I can't let that happen, I won't let that happen. I'd see him dead first," she muttered.

Kippei coughed. "I see you're taking this well."

"Shut up! It's not one of your friends that's running the risk of getting her face smashed in. You may be a dummy, big brother, but I at least haven't forgotten what Kirihara did to you. He's a time-bomb. Next thing I know, he could just haul off on a bad day and send poor Sakuno-chan to the critical care unit."

"I'm pretty sure that certain people would disapprove of that."

"Still! It's just hideous to even consider that Sakuno-chan would ever hang out with, let alone date someone like that. Anyone else would be better for her. Agh—that jerk Kirihara! She needs to be warned about him. It's not too late. I'll call Sakuno-chan soon, yeah, make her see reason. Love her to death but her doormattiness is going to hurt her if she's not careful. I swear, she needs to be put under house arrest for her own good."

Ann halted her circumambulations to look to her brother for confirmations of her ideas; an empty chair where her brother had sat, the furniture, and a squashed bug in one corner were her audience. Oh, once her brother came out of his doubtless locked bedroom—and he had to come out sometime, yes—she'd have some choice words with him.

But for now she would have to come up with a way of broaching the subject and performing an intervention, if only for her friend's sweet sake.

_At St. Rudolph's_

"And so you see, Yanagisawa, it was a blessing in disguise. You're far too good for a girl like her. See the extent of her lack of taste and tartiness. Not only are her bosoms lopsided, how smart can she be if she hangs out with Rikkai Dai?"

"Mizuki-senpai, that's no way to talk about a girl!"

"Silence, Yuuta-kun. You're only on her side because she makes you dinner all the time. You're under the delusion that that makes you special—think again! She's a _food floozy_ who doesn't say 'no' to anyone who asks her for a bite. She serves food to you, to your brother (my eternal rival!), to his team, to all Rikkai Dai . . . how can you stand it? It's shameless. Yanagisawa doesn't need any part of that."

"Mizuki's right, da ne. I sure dodged a bullet. Better off finding out now before we got married or something."

"That's the spirit. Stop twitching, Yuuta-kun, it's unseemly. And more good news, Yanagisawa! To get revenge on this little pop-tart, I took the liberty of forwarding that picture from Yanagi-san to the Yamabuki players. The shame of it! She'll weep herself to sleep."

"Mizuki-senpai! How—how could—agh!"

"Ah, everyone, while Yuuta-kun's choking on his own rage over there, I'm getting replies already. Let's see what they have to say."

The three brief messages that flashed across Mizuki's screen read as follows:

_Don't send me anything like this again, please. I don't understand what's going on. Does Sakuno-chan do performance art? Does Kirihara-san? So confused, desu._

_This is hot. Crazy girls who act innocent are the best girls! Lucky lucky! More pictures later, plz? __ᶓᶔᶓᶔ_

("What the hell are those supposed to be? Shamrocks?")

And finally:

_GO STICK YOUR DICKS IN A CHEERIO, RUDOLPH. _

"Ah—well! We have rattled them, even Akutsu! Your honor is being avenged, Yanagisawa. My plan is coming to perfect fruition—oh, dammit, Yanagisawa, why are you crying this time? You should be happy you're free from such trashiness."

"But, but Sengoku's right; the skanky, crazy girls make the best girlfriends, da ne! I blew my chance. Now that we're on to her, she'll never come here again! And—ow!owowow! Stop punching me, da ne! Yuuta, stop! I'm your senpai!"

"Yes, we're both your senpai! Arrrrgh! You kicked me! No, Yuuta-kun, I am your creator! I brought you in, trained you! No!"

_At Shitenhouji_

Like almost everyone else on the forwarding list, Shiraishi had not been expecting the picture in his e-mail folder. In the opposite manner of almost everyone else who viewed it, however, he had burst out laughing from the start and enjoyed the thing for the ridiculousness it was. The somewhat familiar girl in the picture—perhaps he heard his old Tachibana friends and Kin-chan mentioned something about a girl from time to time—did not pique his interest. Kirihara he did know, and it was a treat to see the brat's inner kiddy dreams to be displayed for all to mock.

"Can't believe that we're all intimidated by this kid on the courts at Nationals. What a dork," he laughed to himself. He debated on whether or not to show the photo to his team in order to bolster their spirits for the upcoming Nationals, to show them that Rikkai Dai were hardly the monsters they were cracked up to be, but the choice flew out of his hands. Soon Kintarou came bouncing over to his captain, who showed him the picture for a laugh. Kin-chan did snicker at first, his grind becoming wider while he shoved a finger at the screen.

"It's Sakuno-chan! You know, my friend who makes such delicious mochi balls!"

Shiraishi's sense of recognition bloomed forth. Kintarou sometimes talked about a Sakuno-chan or Ryuuzaki-chan, often in the context of 'Koshimae's semi-girlfriend' or when she sent him a batch of sweets. He also believed that she was a good friend of Ann's.

"I wonder what she's doing with Rikkai Dai," he mused aloud, not trusting that Kintarou would have the attention span to care. "I thought she's Seigaku. Perhaps she transferred."

However, Kintarou did have a better memory when people who both fed him on a regular basis and were friends with Koshimae were concerned.

"Nah, we talked on the phone just a few weeks ago. She still goes to Seigaku High. But it is kinda weird, isn't it? What do you think it means, Buchou?" Kintarou's eyes reddened and watered. "Is it a bad sign? Maybe she doesn't like Koshimae anymore. Maybe she'll never talk to me and I'll never get to have her mochi ever again. Are the good times over? Please say they aren't, Buchou!"

He deigned to smile his indulgence. "The good times are not over, Kintarou."

"Oh good, I was worried there for a second. Let me see—hey, what's wrong with her hair? Usually it's all twisted up like noodles, but it looks different here. It's pretty, kinda like chocolate cotton candy but less frizzy. I can taste it right now. It's delicious!"

While the jungle-boy slobbered over his fantasies of edible hair, chance graced Shiraishi with a time to strike. Clucking his tongue as a proper captain should, he beckoned over his kouhai with a bandaged finger and began to whisper.

"But did you know, Kin-chan, that her hair is only tasty and pretty when it's down like that? When it's in braids, the hair gets angry at being imprisoned and they become poisonous if you touch them. _So don't touch 'em! _Or eat 'em, for that matter._"_

"Are they as poisonous as your fingers, Buchou?"

"A hundred times deadlier. And the thing is, you don't even have to touch the braids to get killed. They come alive, you know. They look all cute and innocent and they wait until your guard is down, and then bam—they coil around your neck and strangle you to death and it's the end for you!"

Kintarou shook and screamed at this point. "No!"

"Yes! I warned you before about Echizen—you think he'd just let any kind of girl hang around him? They're both demons in disguise."

Kintarou trembled for a few seconds until he regained some clarity of thought, his brows knotted with great effort. "But you were wrong about Koshimae. He's not a demon at all. I think you're making this up just to mess with me, Buchou."

Face solemn, Shiraishi stared down his junior. "I'm hurt that you have such a lack of trust in me, Kin-chan, that you think I would lie to you about this. You tell me that Echizen is not a poisonous demon like I warned you about. But you tell me this—can you prove to me that he is _not _a demon?"

A bite of the lip, a shuffle of the feet, fidgeting of the fingers, and Kintarou stared up at Shiraishi. "Well, he's never appeared or acted like a demon to me. He can't be one. His fingers never even gave out poison waves."

"Just because they didn't send out waves every time you saw them doesn't mean that Echizen's fingers aren't poisonous, you know. And likewise, just because Ryuuzaki's braids never harmed _you_, that doesn't mean your own experience is the only one. I know of five people who were attacked by those braids myself. Maybe it's because Echizen and his girl like you so they won't poison you. Or else they like you so much that—" here Shiraishi ducked close to Kintarou's quivering face, eyes ablaze. "So much that they want to save you for later and fatten you up so that they can EAT YOU!"

With a strangled cry of terror muddled with betrayal and despair, Kintarou rocketed away towards the tennis courts. Shiraishi was certain that was where the kid was headed because he had often told Kintarou that the courts were a place of healing and power where opposing players' poison and evil psychic vibes could not harm him. It was a great way of making sure that Kintarou went through his normal training regimen since he would stay for hours into the evenings before Regionals and Nationals to ward off any supernatural attacks.

Shiraishi found it best to follow Kintarou and oversee his practice, so, with a last laugh at the picture Rikkai send to him, he shut down the computer's top and moved onwards. Along the way he thought to himself: 'I really have to those two a thank-you gift one of these days. Even when I just talk about them, they're the best people at keeping Kin-chan in line that I know."

_At Rikkai Dai_

In the spacious locker rooms of Rikkai Dai's high school Niou contested in a game of hide and seek; the prize for winning the game would the rights to Niou's life. He ducked behind darkened corners, slunk under benches, making no sound but for the rattling of his heart in his ribcage. He was flagging—he could tell they were closing in. If he was lucky the one pursuer who wasn't armed would reach him first; he figured he could take Marui on in a fair fight. But if one or another, maybe both, of the others caught him, he knew it'd be curtains.

A draft of air breezed past his ear. He started and dashed his ankle against a sharp corner. His bastard teammates had locked all of the exits except the front entrance—if only he could sneak past! His own teammates—if only Yagyuu had said a word in his defense, did something! But Yagyuu, his own partner, had ditched him.

"B-b-bastards," Niou whispered, sweat trickling into his mouth and salting his tongue as he reflected upon what exactly had brought him so low. What sin could a man commit in a single lifetime to deserve such a fate?

Never before had he received such a fright as he had that morning—he had gone to practice, expecting a normal day of grueling exertion and yelling, and instead Yukimura's face had met him at the door, a very pleasant, smiling face that greeted him with every bit of warmth. It had been the most horrible thing Niou had ever seen, and for once he truly thought that he had done nothing wrong to merit Yukimura's terrifying attentions; he could come up with nothing. His practice attendance was good, his form good, his desire for winning and attitude good.

"You're acting all sweetness and rainbows today, buchou," he managed out in the last vestiges of his bravado. "What's the catch?"

"Please, Masaharu-kun, come in, come in, have some tea and snacks with me. I wish to have a few friendly words with you."

Niou had planned to dash out of the door and lie low for a few days, but he knew how fast Yukimura could move when so inclined. Niou let himself be lead towards one of the offices at the front of the locker room complex and eyed the tea and its large curls of steam very carefully as Yukimura poured it.

"Drink," said Yukimura, his fine hairs swaying gently to deny Niou the chance to blow away the steam from his drink. As Niou tried to slurp down the tea and only gagged and sputtered, Yukimura grinned. "You've got a mouth like a cat today, Masaharu."

"Just get this over with, buchou. Whatever I did, I'm probably sorry."

The response came after Yukimura took a few luxurious sips from his own cup. "Did you know that Sanada received a very interesting phone call just a few hours ago?"

"So?"

"It was from Tezuka."

"Niou, I'm beginning to lose patience with you. Did you honestly think that you could send a prank picture to Seigaku and get away with it?"

Despite himself Niou broke out into laughter at the memory. "Oh, that! Hey, I didn't make that picture. Aka-chan did it. Well, most of it anyway."

The smile did not falter, in fact it grew wider, and Niou stopped laughing. "I'm afraid that you're missing the point. If it were only a prank on Kirihara, it'd just be business as usual and I'd let you off with a few slaps from Sanada, maybe a free punch or two from Kirihara. But you see, it's become more complicated than that. Can you guess why? Go ahead. You're a smart fellow."

The possibility was so ludicrous that it took Niou a few seconds of lip-chewing and bouncing in his seat before he arrived at what his captain was driving. "Aaaaaah. Was it just because Ryuuzaki was in the picture too? Why would that be a complication?"

"According to Sanada, Tezuka was slightly upset on his kouhai's behalf. Apparently Tezuka baby-sat Ryuuzaki-san when they were younger. I think you misjudged Seigaku this time."

"What? Just because I included her in a silly picture? Come on, Buchou!"

"You gave her a D-cup."

"So? Every flat-chested chick wants that!"

"Listen to me, Niou. Your harmless little prank has resulted in a few disadvantages for our team in the upcoming season—our final season together, mind you. One: you've only added fire to Seigaku's desire to beat us this season. They've always had a better mental game than we have, and you've made it worse. Two: Ryuuzaki is going to hear about this any minute and she is going to be angry at all of us, not just you. When I even suggested the possibility that she would never make any food for the team because of this, Marui cried like a little girl. "

Once again Niou laughed and spat in the face of mortal peril by a laughing aloud.

"—And three: Kirihara is very upset."

"How upset? Did he cry too? He made that picture! The only reason I did it was to show him how much of a baby he was being."

"He's been in Red-Eyes mode for three hours. We had to put him under a cold shower for the first hour and bind up his hands to keep him from attacking anything in sight."

"Well, damn."

The chair squeaked with Yukimura's deep sigh and bent posture and his fingers templed under his chin, the smile disappeared. "Although I hoped it wouldn't come to this, I'm going to have to censure you, Niou. Sanada and Tezuka would never let it go if I didn't make an example of you. You know as well as any of us what the standards of Rikkai Dai are, and we do _not_ go around sending out pictures with gag boobs and ruining innocent girls' reputations just to make a point."

At the snap of the captain's fingers any and all chance for Niou's protestations and pleas for mercy was snatched away. Shadows filled the door and their iron hands clamped on Niou's shoulders. Jackal and Yagyuu's blank eyes promised no mercy and were unmoved when Niou invoked their past camaraderie. Niou nearly wept for betrayal when Yagyuu helped Jackal force him towards the lockers and showers, Yukimura's sweet voice trailing behind:

"You have two minutes' head start before I let Sanada, Kirihara, and Marui in there. Make the most of it. And don't think of escaping through the back doors. I had Renji jury-rig them so that you'll get an electric shock if you touch them."

One sharp kick against his rear later, Niou tumbled into the locker rooms. None of the overhead lights were on. He knew the place like the insides of his eyelids, so at first Niou was confident that he could navigate in the pitch without trouble until he discovered the painful way that all of the furniture had been rearranged. Tennis balls and training equipment were scattered all over the floor. He would have been impressed if not for the terror; this was exactly how he'd set things up.

And now here he was, groping blindly along the floor, desperately seeking the bathroom. He could hole up in there. The others would give up eventually. He'd have a water source in there. He could hold out—

A soft noise, a flashlight, and a pair of geta assaulted his disoriented senses, and here came that sinking feeling. "F-fukubuchou."

"You have dishonored me, Niou."

One of his arms crooked behind his back, hiding something, and Niou easily guessed what Sanada was holding; his dread sickened into fear when Sanada pulled out not a wooden bokuto but a full-fledged steel katana.

"Goddamn, Fukubuchou! You've gone crazy. You really trying to kill me? I'm one of the best doubles players this team's ever had!"

All of the cold fury and calculation on Sanada's face melted away. "Silence! You have no idea of what Tezuka said to me! The things he called me. I must restore my honor—" Niou's ponytail fluttered, limp and lifeless, to the floor as years' worth of growing out his lovely silver hair vanished in a single stroke.

"You've gone crazy, Fukubuchou!"

"Yes. Crazy with dishonor." In a cool motion Sanada turned his head and raised his voice. "Oi! He's over here!"

Niou rejoiced when Sanada sheathed the katana, but his relief at not being diced was short-lived as Sanada clamped down on his legs and began dragging him. In the distance Niou noted the approach of two other flashlights and the squelching of wet tennis shoes. Damp tendrils further obscured Kirihara's face in weird shadows, bloodshot eyes burning from the depths like unholy fires.

"Just you wait, Niou, you bastard, I'm coming for ya! Shower or not, I'm coming for ya! I'll menace you like a spider monkey! Buchou said I could, so it's all right!"

Marui's shouts were intermingled with sobs. "Give me back all the cakes from Sakuno-chan I'll never eat! You stole them from me, Niou! Bring 'em back!"

For the rest of his life—as indeed he did survive that day, and without too many physical injuries—Niou could never fully recall what happened afterward. Everyone else said that it had been a coping mechanism to shield him from the utter shame. All he could piece together was that involved being hung from one of the basketball court goals, a wire-cup bra, a piece of paper with a bulls-eye drawn on it, and many, many tennis ball barrages.

He later learned that a picture had been taken and delivered to Ryuuzaki, but she never showed it to him and did not send it to anyone else.

Small mercies are the wonders of the world.

_At the Ryuuzaki household_

"And that is why, Kintarou-kun, that you can't disprove a negative. Do you understand now, or do I have to call Grandma up here so she explain it you one more time?"

"I am not talking to that weird kid again, Sakuno."

"You get it now? Good!" Sakuno finished the impromptu lecture on a beaming note, putting as much pep in her voice as she could. Not half an hour ago she had received a call from him, crying and gibbering about poison and monsters and it had taken her that long to finally talk him down. The migraine spots at her temples throbbed in their desire for a good rubbing and she massaged the left pressure point, her surprise and sympathy for Kin-chan waning as her annoyance waxed with every word his voice carried to her ear.

"Yes, Kintarou-kun, I promise I'm telling you the truth. Ah—um—okay. I swear that my braids will never, ever poison you or strangle you. They can't. Well, you can't always trust what Shiraishi-san tells you. He was probably joking. No, Kintarou-kun, I'm not calling your captain a liar. He just has his facts—mixed up. Ev-everyone makes mistakes. All right. Oh? Oh, please don't! Ryoma-kun doesn't need to be asked anything. It'd probably just bother him. I'm sure he likes you, Kintarou-kun! But you know that his fingers aren't poisonous. Asking him again would only annoy him. Okay. Oh—thank you? I think your hair is—tasty-looking too. Like strawberry!" Giggling at his banter and in relief that the very odd subject matter was over and done with, she jerked her hand at Kintarou's following words and hit banged it on her desk. Months of speech therapy classes jumped out the window as her tongue grew too weak to form words without the old heavy stutter.

"Excuse me? No, I don't have a boyfriend. Well, yes, I do know Akaya-kun, we've become friends over the summer. What—oh, you know I can't date until I'm sixteen. What do you mean, 'open season'? Yes, I like Akaya-kun_—no,_ not more than I like you or Ryoma-kun. Kintarou-kun, you're asking an awful lot of questions." As a sign of heaven's infrequent mercy, Sakuno tripped over her own bedroom floor rug and went tumbling; a clothes hamper and some items from her desk crashed with her. "Ouch, I just took a tumble, that's all. I better get all of this stuff picked up. Good night, Kintarou-kun!"

Rattled by the bizarre conversation, Sakuno decided the best way to retrieve equilibrium would be to phone Tomo-chan before going to bed. Perhaps they could arrange an outing to commemorate the first day back at school after summer break, and if Tomo-chan was in a charitable enough mood maybe Ann-chan could come with them.

_And the ride—the ride is so smooth_

_You must be a limousine!_

_Little red corvette_

_Baby, you're much too fast-_

Some of the English words Sakuno could understand but they made absolutely no sense. This was not the normal ringtone Tomo-chan assigned to her calls. She did not have the chance to ponder too much on the mystery as a snorting voice answered, a voice so unrecognizable that Sakuno feared that one of Tomo-chan's brothers had answered instead. In spite of the vicious beatings they had received for past offenses they still liked to prank call her now and then.

"Sakuno! Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been trying to get you for the last thirty minutes!" The shrillness proved that this was none other than the true Tomo-chan.

"Oh, Kintarou-kun just called me. He wanted to know if my braids were ever going to strangle and eat him."

"Oh-kay. It took you that long to talk to him? This is far more serious than your dumb cannibal braids! Listen Sakuno-chan, I heard something and saw something, but I need to hear it from you before I beat up anyone or anything."

"What did you hear, Tomo-chan?"

"I—" Any answer gave way to a heavy sigh. "It's too much. I can't even sum up on the phone. But this is huge, Sakuno-chan, it's huge. So tomorrow before classes you need to come and talk to me at the school gate. Don't talk to anyone else, okay? Nobody! Not even Ann."

"Aren't you being a little cryptic, Tomo-chan?" The short second of dead air followed by the sound of a sharp intake of breath were clear enough warning signals that Sakuno's hand instinctively jerked the phone away from her ear before the following shriek burst one of her eardrums.

"FLOOZIES DON'T GET ANSWERS!"

On that note Tomo-chan disconnected the call to leave Sakuno to stare at the darkened phone screen in bemusement. Finally, in a delayed reaction of synapse activity, Sakuno remembered that Akaya-kun had texted her last evening, which lead her to reminiscing a bit about her Tanabata trip and then recalling that Horio-kun and the others had been there. Now that she had an inkling as to why Tomo-chan had been so upset, she laughed out of exasperation and began to get ready for an untroubled bedtime. When she clambered into bed her head was light upon the pillow.

'I'll just tell Tomo-chan the truth,' she thought in the last vestiges of consciousness. 'Once she hears about the trip from me she'll believe me and this will all be cleared up.'

_COMING UP: Nothing gets cleared up._


	11. Adventure10 Better to be Feared or Loved

SAKUNO ADVENTURE #10: BETTER TO BE FEARED OR LOVED

If she had stopped to reflect on the strange reversal that greeted her upon breezing through the school gates and foyers, Sakuno might have gotten more forewarning about the type of day that awaited her. She might have also simply gone back home to barricade herself away from society for the next year or two—the world forgets what it does not see, after all.

Nevertheless, bolstered by her vacation and thumbing through recipes in her head, Sakuno found herself cheerful and confident whereas the lower lids of Tomo-chan's eyes were engulfed in puffy, discolored bags. Two canned mocha energy drinks stood as silent witnesses to the state of Tomo-chan's nerves. Sakuno knew that Tomo-chan would have gladly slept ten hours a night if she could; the only precedent for such an unnatural situation had been a year before, when they had both stayed up all night finishing summer assignments at the last minute. With the great care one takes in approaching an angry cat, Sakuno announced her arrival from a distance.

"I'm here, Tomo-chan. Are you all right? Did you pull another all-nighter? After what happened last year—"

Tomo-chan bolted up from her seat, cans scattering halfway down the hall from the violence of her indignant reply. "Do I look like I'm all right? I've been driven half-crazy about this, Sakuno-chan. Maybe I should've told you last night, but I thought at least one of us should get a decent night's sleep. I don't know why I even bothered. _You_ should be the one to toss and turn and have to speak with that Ann and Horio each for an hour straight. You're welcome, by the way. "

Poor Tomo-chan, worked up and miserable over nothing! Sakuno smiled inwardly to herself; she was happy she would be able to do the comforting for a change of pace. "Is this about the time I spent with the Rikkai team during the break?"

"You could say that."

Having had the chance to sleep on it, Sakuno had come to the conclusion over her morning soup that the issue at stake here was her devotion and fidelity towards her school and Ryoma-kun. Since his return and re-installment on the tennis team both girls and boys alike had gone crazy with adoration and pride that a near-professional played for their school, and Ryoma-kun found himself swamped with love every time he dared let his guard down outside of class. Tomo-chan's Ryoma-sama Fanclub had its ranks swollen with members. She'd offered the Vice-President position in the club to Sakuno just last week, as she did every week, but Sakuno had recused herself, saying that her apprenticeship did not allow her to make such a commitment. That had brought down plenty of suspicion from her classmates, if it hadn't been there before. She really had not counted on being caught with the regulars of other schools, but she was now sure that her Tanabata vacation had only lowered the estimation of her all the more. She was also now sure that she could blame Horio-kun for starting the whole thing.

Sometimes Sakuno felt that it was only because she was their president's best friend that the more vocal members of the fanclub had not strung her up to answer for her disturbing lack of faith. She had overheard things. Almost everyone who had ended up in the same high school knew her reputation. If she no longer was Ryoma's co-number one fan with Tomoka, then she should say so in public and defect to some other loser's club, they said. Preserve your heart for Ryoma-sama. Give your heart up to only Ryoma-sama. Consorting with other men is anathema to Ryoma-sama. Squee for Ryoma-sama. To insult Ryoma-sama is to kill Ryoma-sama. Prepare to be killed and die for the sake of Ryoma-sama.

(Incidentally, the real Ryoma, had no clue about any of these goings on. Momo-senpai had told her that if he knew, he would have sunken into madness. That was why the regulars did not encourage him to improve his habits in middle school; his own sometimes callous social obliviousness was the only thing between him and doom.)

Well, she persisted in thinking, telling Tomo-chan the whole story about her vacation would set things aright. Nobody could shout down Tomo-chan when it came to Ryoma-kun and tennis matters. It was physically impossible. Truth would carry the day.

Sakuno proceeded to give out her condensed version of events in Kanagawa. All throughout Tomo-chan stood in judgment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the story as it was told. This coldness did not sit well with Sakuno's confidence as she stumbled over a few concluding words and darted looks at Tomo-chan's one raised eyebrow.

"Tomo-chan, why were you so worried about this? Is something wrong? Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Did you wear a plum-blossom yukata at the festival? Did you not have your hair in their braids?" Tomo-chan uttered the questions more like accusations hurled beneath white-hot lamps. It was no wonder in their last year of middle school all the other girls had voted Tomo the most likely to become a police officer or sports coach.

Yukata and braids had been the furthest things from Sakuno's mind at this juncture.

"You were there when Grandma and I bought the yukata, Tomo-chan. You said I looked nice in it. And I guess Horio-kun told you that he was in Kanagawa and saw me without my braids." She finally allowed her building frustration to burble out a little as she said somewhat waspishly, "What's your point, Tomo-chan?"

"Well, do you look nice in it _like this?_"

Sakuno had no desire to see a grainy cell-phone picture of her with strands of wind-blown hair hanging from her mouth like baleen, a snotty nose, or, worse still, flashing a glimpse of the old lacy white chest-shackles for the camera, but she steeled herself anyway for the humiliation.

Her line of sight suddenly wrenched away from the phone without glimpsing the screen and her face was now parallel with the floor. Something had leapt upon her back and was mussing her hair with playful fingers. She wanted to scream but squeaked instead when the catlike fingers batted at her neck and ears. Her braids became undone as those deft fingers slipped them out of their ties.

"Nyaa-aah! Good morning, Ryuuzaki-chan!"

"Nyah," she greeted in resignation under Eiji-senpai's weight. Now he was scooping up handfuls of her hair and rubbing his cheek against them; if it had anyone else it would have looked creepy and possibly worthy of arrest. Tomo-chan protested and swatted at him to no avail.

"Ah, it's as snugly and shiny as I dreamed it'd be. I wanna stuff a teddy bear with it, Ryuuzaki-chan! Why don't you let your hair out more often? Letting Rikkai see it first! Naughty, naughty! Don't you love us anymore?"

Without waiting for a reply, as if she could make one as doubled over as she was now, he next took skeins of her hair and dangled them in front of his lips, pretending to be Confucius or Lao-Tzu in alternative bouts. All of the previous times Eiji-senpai had victimized her with his dizzying antics, Sakuno had never had her hair mistreated in quite such a bizarre manner. There was no time to consider the source of this new fixation as Eiji-senpai had stopped his glomping to call out "Ochibi!" and inviting him to engage in some 'grand mustache action.'

She had begun to pant from the exertion of balancing the monkey-cat on her spine and was feeling very hot with embarrassment, but Sakuno still felt the frost of Ryoma-kun's apathetic disapproval penetrating through the hair cloaking her face. Tomo-chan had dropped her fierceness to coo at Ryoma-sama and Eiji had bounced over to greet his favorite snuggle-toy. A few gasps of air later, Sakuno remembered Tomo-chan had wanted to show her the picture, so she simply bit the bullet and took the phone for a better look.

For some interminable moments she squinted at the picture, her heart hammering as if she were living out one of those dreams she sometimes had, dreams where she could fly but had no control over her trajectory or speed and she tilted crazily in the air without meter or measure. A light flashed behind her right eye. She couldn't help herself—she tittered. The giggles echoed thinly down the corridors.

"I didn't know I had _those. _And I never went to the beach with Akaya-kun. I don't remember any Porsche being there either."

Helpless confusion must have made her seem like a lone duckling being rolled and buffeted about in a strong wind because the three others looked at her—even Ryoma-kun—with pity.

"That's why I called you here early; to warn you," Tomo-chan answered, miserable.

"Oh, you're looking at the funny picture, nyah! Don't worry, Ryuuzaki-chan, we don't hold it against you! We know it's all fake and that you don't really hang out with Kirihara like that."

"Unh," Ryoma mustered, still not one for public reassurances.

Who knew about her trip, Sakuno demanded. All of the team and, thanks to gossip no doubt originating from the Ichinen Trio, most of the freshmen class knew. The team had even seen the picture. Sakuno scanned Ryoma's face for confirmation and found it when he did not meet her eyes—then again, he rarely did, and that he did not do so in this moment was all the answer she needed.

Sakuno whimpered. The pricks in her head, the lurching in her stomach—"Oh. Lots of people know, then. The other schools know!"

More students milled past them in the breezeway in a uniform blur until a small group of girls, social friends that Sakuno and Tomoka liked to hang out with at lunchtimes and school activities and class projects sloughed off into focus. They had no malice in their faces but their tight smiles were teasing.

"Oh Sakuno-chan, are Ryoma-sama and Eiji-senpai chewing you out for hanging out with other teams?" called out Michiko-chan.

Eiji-senpai protested all that he wanted to do was play with her hair.

An upperclassman, Junko-senpai, spoke in a near-whisper as she mouthed out the words with lush exaggeration, tongue lolling: "Sakuno-chan! You—are—a—slut!"

"Did the implants you get over the break spring a leak, Saku-chan? You look as twiggy as ever. Where are they? You'll have to show us where they're hiding at gym class."

Ryoma gave them a quailing look. "Shut up. Don't talk nonsense when you don't know a damn thing."

Sakuno looked up at Tom-chan and whispered the magic word 'bathroom'. There was a girls' room not ten meters' distance away. Tomo-chan needed no further prompting; Sakuno grasped her friend's arm and they whisked themselves away to the last bastion of schoolgirl privacy. As they left Tomo-chan turned her head and snapped at Eiji and Ryoma to stand guard outside the door and not let any other girls barge in on the sacred conference space. Although he squealed at the very idea, Eiji had no time to object; Ryoma looked blanker than normal and also raised no objections.

Another girl in the blur called out after their backs. "Are you meeting one of your other boyfriends in there, Ryuuzaki-chan?"

"Just because you're always moaning for your boyfriend when you're on the toilet doesn't mean that every other girl does," snapped Tomo-chan.

The two plowed into the restroom to find it blissfully empty. Sakuno soaked a paper towel and pressed it to her face to find some sort of relief from the flashes of hot and cold numbness; in the meantime Tomo-chan lead her over to the nearest sink, rubbing a hand in circles across Sakuno's back. Her best friend the firecracker had fled the scene, replaced by someone with a gentler touch.

"I'm sorry you feel so bad, Sa-chan. But don't take it too hard. It'll get better, I promise. It'll be okay."

"No. It won't be okay. I've never been so embarrassed, Tomo-chan. You know, I thought the worst thing would be what happened that day in May, before summer, you know, when I was accidentally locked out after gym class after someone had taken my shirt when we were taking showers. Remember that? I was only in my bra, I used my hair to try and cover up, and was so embarrassed and _then _I tried sneaking around the back to get in the other way because I was too shy to ask anyone for help and you weren't there. Then I ran into Fuji-senpai—"

"See, you dummy, you're looking a little better just talking about it. This isn't any different. We'll look back on this when we're gumless and wheezy and laugh and laugh."

Sakuno made the point that being caught by only one person, no matter how many times he smiled that fox-eyed smile at her and asked for Godiva chocolates for his next birthday instead of his favorite jalapeno-and-chocolate ice-cream, was a far cry from wearing the title of school slut like a sandwich board. Tomo-chan countered by saying that nobody really thought of her that way. Everyone knew a real school slut when they saw her.

"You called me a floozy last night."

"That was just teasing, Sa-chan. For starters, if I thought you were really cheating on Ryoma-sama, I'd have called you a chuzz-guzzling trollop." Tomo must have interpreted Sakuno's goggling as having stemmed from admiration and awe and not horror at her worldly wisdom, for she added: "Believe me, you have no clue of what I can dish out. We're in high school after all, Sa-chan, and we have to be prepared. Things have changed. It's obvious when I say it, I know, you sometimes don't pick up so readily on this stuff."

Tomo-chan's cheerful, snappy eyes then grew as somber as Sakuno had ever seen them during their friendship. "You'll just have to be more careful around boys from now on. I'll be glad when this stupid mess with Hyotei is over and done with and you can start hanging around just Ryoma-kun like in the old days. Getting so chummy with Rikkai was a mistake. You even gave them food! Food you made yourself! You don't know how bad it looks when you do that? Girls only do that to boys they want to date. That's the rule."

Sakuno scrambled for a justification. "I needed practice on my cooking, Tomo-chan. And they acted—I mean, I thought they were nice. They said very kind things to me. You weren't there, Tomo-chan. And they didn't say anything at all about my giving them food. They liked it."

Tomo said that, what with Sanada and Yagyuu and Yukimura being there and it not being tennis-related, Rikkai had been too polite and too stomach-savvy to turn down free food. And perhaps one of the denser boys who did not know of the iron loyalty that Seigaku High girls possessed towards their men had gotten into his dull-ass head that she, Sakuno Ryuuzaki, baker supreme in training, was amenable to a few dates once January 14th hit and it was open season.

"You _aren't_ interested in any one of them like that, right, Sa-chan?" The second's pause as Sakuno's bleary head digested the question was a half-second too much. "Right?"

"I'm not interested in anyone right now. I like a lot of people and I want to be friends with them all, but I don't have the time to think about stuff like that. I'm kind of busy."

There were grades to keep up; her Grandma needed someone to make sure she ate right and did not drink too much sake and to take her pill regimen; she needed to improve on her slicing techniques at the Kawamura restaurant; the booth still needed to be run on the weekends; and she needed to try and stop other people from tormenting her and disrupting her work. How could she think of boys right now?

"Well, you better start thinking about stuff like that, or else you're just going to get into more trouble without knowing it, Sa-chan. And I can't help you much if that happens. I could scream and try to beat up everyone I come across, but it wouldn't stop anything. It'd be even worse than when we were Ichinen in middle school."

"How do you know all of this, Tomo-chan? About what boys and the other girls think, I mean."

"I read things. Girls' magazines, both shoujo and josei manga, romance novels,yaoi, other books I find in the stores and around my house. Your Grandma probably still only lets you read Doraemon. Ryuuzaki-sensei's cool, but she's so old, and she can't keep up with everything in your life."

"We've talked about things like that before. I know the basics," came Sakuno's feeble protest in her grandmother's honor. All it received was a snort from Tomo-chan as she continued to rub her back.

Sakuno's left temple pounded and for the briefest moment she wanted to rinse out her parched mouth with water, to scrape at her forearms, or to twist something into shreds. Tomo-chan never had made her feel like this before; Tomo-chan had always lent herself to confidence that they could talk about anything and never feel ashamed. Sakuno's fingers squeezed the rims of the sink in an effort to keep herself inside her own skin.

Her best friend in the world had gone beyond her and left her in the dust. When Ryoma-kun had been around sometimes they would talk together about him and boys in general, but it had never gotten beyond gushing about good looks and cute, if annoying, behaviors. This was unlike anything else. When had this happened? No particular incident stood out in Sakuno's memory before today's revelations. It had happened just as a ditch filled with rainwater loses its water to the heat of the sun so slowly that people are only surprised when the water is completely gone. And now here was Tomo-chan, singing the praises of love triangles and h-doujin. She had no idea whether she wanted to catch up or not.

A minute or two more filled with back-rubs and gulps of water cleared Sakuno's arms of their trembling; the world sharpened into coherency. The girls steeled themselves to make another foray into the jungle. Then a text message buzzed on Sakuno's phone, a morning greeting from Kirihara to Sakuno-bunny, and that she should try and take a call from him at lunch because he had a very important thing to tell her.

Apparently it wasn't so important that Rikkai cared to inform her of the mess before her very best friends and schoolmates had gotten wind of it. It was insult beyond measure, able to break the constraints of even her timidity and manners.

She was going to tell Rikkai to shove it.

With the school hours well underway Sakuno did not expect him to answer her call, nor did she want to speak to him. At the message prompt she left a stuttering voice-mail to declare that she would never cook for him, for Marui, or anyone on the team again, and (at Tomo's suggestion) that Niou could go sit on a live firecracker, and that she hoped the team never made it to Nationals this year. At the end of the message she slammed the plastic phone cover shut as Tomo brought down her hands from over her ears.

"Wow, that was shades of Ryuuzaki-sensei right there, Sa-chan. That Kirihara chump and the other Rikkai Dai fools'll weep themselves to sleep from regret! And geez—when you're loud, you're loud. I think you even had me beaten for screechiness. I've taught you well."

The meanness and satisfaction of saying what she truly thought for once wafted away from her mind and left nothing in their wake. There was no time to think, for any regrets. She had to get back to class; there was nothing for it but to go forward.

The phone rang again. In her daze and unthinking desire for distraction, Sakuno failed once more to check the caller's name.

"Ryuu—za—ki."

"Oh, no," she answered.

"It is well that you say 'oh, no' when confronted by Ore-sama's awesome indignation at your monstrous ingratitude. Ore-sama has paid you such consideration out of respect for you and yours, and then you fling Ore-sama's munificence back in his teeth."

'Ingratitude' and 'munificence' echoed hollowly and sparked no meaning in Sakuno's mind, as she was too tired to struggle for finding clarification on her own. The horrible truth that she had somehow managed to offend Hyotei _again, _and that Atobe was acting on his own whims _again _had left her bereft of critical judgment.

"What do you mean, Atobe-san? What happened? I haven't done anything," she protested as she shoved away Tomo-chan's hand again. What she got in response was a conspiracy theory involving her, Yukimura-san, hair-care methods, and prank pictures that were a waste of Ore-sama's precious time and generosity.

Atobe had seen the picture; all of the Hyotei team had seen it; all of Hyotei may have seen it! Sending a pie filled with castor oil and her own spit was too good for Rikkai— She could not keep up that thought as Atobe's voice became crisp and efficient, a sign that he was talking business.

Anyone who had faced down Atobe Keigo in the courts or corporate boardroom knew that his braggadocio, haughty ways, and self-elevation served to bewilder others and catch them off guard before he made the switch and bore down upon his opponent without mercy. He now kept all brashness away from his voice as he continued inexorably, "You know the stipulations of our agreement, Ryuuzaki, and you've stalled long enough. Send me the names of the other people who will help you in the contest and the menu of dishes you will be preparing. You have until Saturday."

" But I had a full eight days, that's barely five" she cried.

"You had eight days before you tried to make a fool out of me and my school for a second time. I suggest that you choose your team well, though you may well find Seishun students rather lacking in talent and taste that you need to even put up a fight."

Sakuno made another noise of protest in her throat and he just barged over her interruption as if it were nothing.

"One last thing, Ryuuzaki. We had agreed on the terms of what would happen if you somehow won, but Ore-sama's gentlemanly nature prevented him from even daring to think about imposing any kind of punishment on you if you lost. But your ingratitude has made Ore-sama reconsider. If you lose, you must—"

He held out the last words to make them more portentous, dangling them over her head. Sakuno winced in anticipation and, when he still said nothing, finally had to prompt him. "Or what, Atobe-san?"

"You must then cut off those ridiculous braids and offer them to Hyotei's greater glory. Yes! You too shall know the fluoride sting of the shame of having to part with your perfect hair, the wasted years of effort. This is my price, Ryuuzaki."

"Don't you dare touch my braids!"

"Ore-sama is doing you a favor simply by informing you of these changes ahead of time. Be grateful!"

" Atobe-san, I wouldn't ask for any more favors from you, not ever," she said hotly. "I especially wouldn't want any help from someone who has such greasy, over-conditioned hair covered with split ends!"

"_How dare you— _If her phone hadn't dropped the call before the explosion, a simple push of the thumb would have done the trick. The Atobe Corporation logo bounced around on the inert screen for a few seconds, indicating that neither party wished to resume the conversation.

The Atobe family corporation may have held nearly half of Japan's economy on its back, Sakuno thought, but every cellphone they made was complete and utter tanuki balls.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

Time was running short. For the second time Sakuno tried to return to her homeroom and for a second time egress was denied. Tomo-chan had seized upon the phone conversation so avidly she had not spoken a word—that should have grabbed Sakuno's notice at once. But she had forgotten everything. Only a tug at her hair snapped her back into the present moment.

"Sounds like you and Atobe have figured out how the challenge between the schools is going to go down," Tomo said. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"I just felt like getting it over with quickly. I just couldn't stand it, Tomo-chan, so I called him up about a week and a half ago and we set down the rules."

She felt it a rather silly and derivative way of resolving school conflict, but the pageantry of the proposal had appealed greatly to Atobe's style of competition. Two teams assembled to crush the other with their skill, artistry on display, a spectacle for all to delight every sense—this was the spirit of the Iron Chef show! Atobe had been more than happy with pitting a Hyotei chef, sous-chef,and team against Sakuno and her own kitchen staff in a similar competition.

It was too bad that so far she had no idea who she could include on her team. So far only Ann-chan had enlisted, and only because she had insisted when they were being driven back home in the limo and had been given every detail.

"Were you ever going to get around to telling me about it? I've really been hating just waiting around while people bullied you and you were floozying about with Rikkai."

Sakuno tugged at her hair and made her way towards the door. "I've been busy, Tomo-chan. Only Ann-chan has any real idea of how things are going to go, and she only knew before you do because she invited herself along with me when I spoke with Atobe."

"You asked Ann's help but you didn't come to me? And I had to hear from Ann—Ann, of all people! And she was the one who called _me _last night, not you— that Rikkai had played such a dirty trick on you, and I had to beg her for a copy of the picture so that I could tell you what was going on."

All the fight had drained out of Tomoka's voice as if Sakuno had gone up and belted her in the face. Nothing else other than the panic of being cast away smoldered in her eyes. Until that call from Ann at the bus stop, after she had broken Yanagisawa's heart and, Tomo-chan had always been the first to know when something went wrong or awry. Tomo-chan had always first heard about it whenever Sakuno had embarrassed herself in public, or when she had missed Ryoma-kun so much in those first few weeks after he left and she had been too ashamed to speak to her grandmother about it.

"You're the only friend I have, Sakuno-chan. Nobody else puts up with me."

Sakuno denied this, said that it wasn't true at all. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro all liked Tomo and the entire girls' softball team admired her. Ann-chan herself liked her just fine and the two of them would get on together like wakame and miso; they only needed to stop seeing whatever personal competition they were has as a point of difference, but instead as something they shared. This served little purpose other than to make Tomo-chan squint down at her with disdain.

"Go to the nurse's office and lie down. Your brain's fried. And you better learn to grow up quick, or else this place is going to have your ass for dinner."

The door slammed as Tomo-chan stalked away. Sakuno rested her forehead on the cool sink. She did not want to play the game anymore—she did not know how to please so many people at once. She could barely keep three people juggled at the same time.

But that was how her father had thought, and look what he had done, what had happened to him. He had given up and gone away. She would not be like that. Sakuno closed her eyes and thought of the picture of her mother smiling in the hospital nestled in Aunt Natsuko's photo album.

When Sakuno emerged from the bathroom, there slumped against the wall sat Ryoma, ditched a long time ago by Eiji, his cap jammed on his head to conceal his face and looking like the world's most inept pervert. He scowled and grunted at her approach. As always, Sakuno felt sorry for him and for causing him trouble, but he only grunted again at her when she asked him to go back to class to tell the teacher she would be going to the infirmary. She needed to lie down.

The school nurse fussed and asked all about her headache while putting her in the bed in the darkest corner, giving her medicine, and putting compresses over her eyes. The pain had subsided but Sakuno was not going to refuse a nice rest and the ability to hide away from her fifteen minutes of shame for a little while longer.

A few minutes later another student had appeared at the front of the nurse's office, but as the nurse approached him he said that he was only here to give another student her backpack. At the sound of footsteps Sakuno took down the compress to thank the nurse, but she saw that Ryoma-kun had breezed past to do the chore himself.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked her. He looked at her with eyes that were so keen and incisive in every other aspect except when it came to gauging even the most obvious emotions and actions of the female sex. How did the Echizen primordial ancestors manage to get this far when they knew so little? Nanjiroh-san had to be a fluke. Would he ask a teammate who had a sprained ankle or their head split open how they were feeling?

"Ryoma-kun. Everybody's laughing at me, my head hurts, Atobe's declared war on my hair, I have only a little time to prepare to end what's probably one of the stupidest school feuds in all of Japanese history, and I'm about t_o lose my mind_—" A sigh stopped the torrent of words before they scared him off and she moaned. What was the good? She slipped the compress back over her eyes and tucked the thin sheets of the bed up to her nose.

Five more minutes passed as she tried to gather herself up to return to class and be known as the girl with the magic disappearing double D-cups for the rest of the semester. She started to push herself off the bed.

"Where're you going?" Ryoma asked. "You can't be feeling well enough for school yet."

"I'm not at one hundred percent, Ryoma-kun, but the worst is over. I need to go back"

"Don't be stupid. You're sick."

"Eh?"

"Ryuuzaki—you're not well. You're sick," he repeated through his teeth. Since she was not accustomed to people giving her stage directions, his brows and eyes flashed impatience with her in the few seconds it took Sakuno to seize upon his intentions. She offered a brisk nod to placate his annoyance.

"Right. I'm sick as a dog. I've got one foot in the grave." She plopped her head against the pillow and gave several trial coughs, coughs which were thoroughly unconvincing if Ryoma's wrinkled nose was any indication of her acting prowess. He told her that she looked much more miserable and sick when she was brooding on how her ridiculous bad fortune had brought her reputation down to lows she had never dreamed of. When the nurse returned, any vitality in Sakuno's complexion and eyes had been thoroughly dimmed; she had buried herself under the blanket, back turned towards the boy whose plan had worked perhaps too well.

"Are you feeling better, dear?"inquired the nurse

"No. I feel horrible," said the blanket.

The nurse replaced the cold compress with a cluck of her tongue and pronounced Sakuno unfit for attending any further classes for the day. If she had possessed any spirit Sakuno would have bounded out of the school grounds at a record-setting pace, far way from shame and humiliation, but as it was she only murmured her thanks to the nurse and shambled to gather her things.

Her time-beaten backpack had relocated itself onto Ryoma's back while he carried his duffel slung on his shoulder. She was too abashed to tell him how much the bright pink, flower stickers, and the little bunnies dangling from the zippers did not suit him. Ryoma-kun followed behind her and answered the nurse's critical gaze on the back of his head with a wave, not turning his head.

"I'm going to go and make sure she can get to the bus stop without dying or getting lost."

He continued to match his pace with hers as they exited the school. Sakuno had thought carrying his duffel meant he would split off for the courts, but he kept on beside her. She wondered how she should broach the subject of how both of their absences would get the school representative hot on their heels tomorrow, and how he would make up the classwork he'd miss. Then she remembered that today he probably would have simply slept through all of the classes anyway. His English was perfect as it was and he had taken no electives this semester that would tax him overmuch. He probably would have spent the day snoozing on his desk and answering spot-on every question the teachers lobbed at him. Some people just had _the_ luck.

Her cell-phone rang twice during the walk to the nearest bus stop. Two text messages from Rikkai were summarily deleted without the benefit of a glance. Ryoma opened his mouth to make some comment; not wanting to deal with any smart remarks or intrusive questions, Sakuno blurted, "Are you going home too, Ryoma-kun? But you'll be returning here for afternoon practice, right? I don't think Tezuka-buchou will want you to miss it."

"Aa. I'll get some warm-ups done while I'm at my house, then come back. And you, Ryuuzaki, is Sensei at your place?"

"She'll still be at work, I think. I'll just let myself in with the key." Maybe she'd snoop around for her grandma's sake stash so she could have a few nips before sleeping again—anything to drown the shame of it all.

Ryoma's sharp eyebrows knitted as he regarded her with a familiar look of almost insulted puzzlement at why she could not so easily correct herself. It was a look he had given her every time she had missed an easy lob during one of their old practice sessions, or when her hips had wobbled and made her stumble.

"It's not good for you to wait on your grandmother for so long. If you need to rest, you can at least stay at my house to do it. That way someone will be around if you get worse. You're damn sickly."

It was her turn to look at him askance in doubt his of his soundness of mind. Although he wore his school uniform, he had fished out his trusty Fila cap from his duffel and now had jerked it onto his head with a motion borne from pure instinct.

"You'd probably just faint from the heat in the middle of the street somewhere," he grunted from underneath his cap bill. "And that'd be even more trouble for all of us. Come on."

His father, who hardly worked an hour in a day, would probably be there as well, he said, though his cousin and mother would be at work or university. This laid some of Sakuno's lingering apprehensions to rest. Staying over at a classmate's house for a few hours, even if he was a boy, was perfectly acceptable and decent with adult supervision—she briefly had forgotten what Nanjiroh was like. Ryoma also mentioned that his old man had stockpiled watermelons during June and they had a whole tin tub of them in their cellar.

Her reputation was already in ruins at this point. All she stood to lose now were a cool shade to nap in; dripping watermelon slices; and the company of a friend. Sakuno reached out to rest a hand lightly on his elbow for a second without any stomach butterflies or redness in her face, though inside she was warm. "Let's make a day of it, Ryoma-kun. We need to go by the booth first, and then I want to go to the fish market so I can make you sashimi for dinner." At his confused blink she smiled and continued, "What? You think that you can do all of this for me and not get food? Do you know me at all, Ryoma-kun?"

"You better make some miso. And onigiri tennis balls too," he said with a smirk, eyes oblique. "And don't drop them in the dirt this time."

Ryoma-kun always did like to say that every accident that happened to her was her fault somehow. It drove her crazy.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

There were many stone steps winding up the hill towards the shrine where Echizen Nanjiroh had buried his tennis career and lodged his family away from the streets, the people, and the traffic exhaust of Tokyo. Ryoma-kun strode up ahead of her with practiced ease. Every time Sakuno raised her foot to the next step her head jostled and her eyes squinted against the light despite the protection of the flamingo-appliqued sunglasses she had purchased during the trip to the market, but she did not feel nearly as sick now as she had in the bathroom that morning.

When they had gone to the Kawamura booth Sakuno had expected to find it vandalized and abused beyond what she could endure. If Hyotei wanted to do her any harm, who or what would intercede for a girl hated by heaven, cursed with magically-materializing D-cups an an insatiable appetite for tennis players? They could burn the booth down and the people passing by would probably roast marshmallows in the flames. That was the least of the horrors she had conjured up on the trip there.

The booth stood unburned, unmarked, undisturbed. A striking girl, all at attention in her crisp Hyotei uniform, a whistle around her neck and cellphone strapped to her hip, had stationed herself nearby. The two had come towards her position with greatest caution, daring to trust to no hope; the Hyotei girl had raised the whistle to her lips until she caught sight of Sakuno's braids.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" the Hyotei girl had demanded.

"Shouldn't you?" Ryoma-kun, naturally.

Ryoma-kun's impudence warranted him receiving one or two fewer onigiri balls than Sakuno had intended to make for him. It was fortunate for them that this Hyotei lady had been a cool customer, sniffing once before explaining her presence. She stood here as a high-ranking representative of both the Hyotei Tennis Team and Atobe Keigo Official Fan Club. She, along with other members, took shifts to make sure that no mischief was being done by either party. As long as Seigaku made no move against Hyotei, Hyotei remained satisfied with the current plan to settle things. No orders had come from Atobe or any of the highest-ranking fanclub members to take any action—unsettling rumors about certain people's romantic beach escapades aside.

"I'm glad that Hyotei is treating me with such consideration," Sakuno had murmured, her eyes cast down. She had meant to keep no emotion from twisting the gratitude her voice, but the Hyotei girl took out a ceremonial AKOFC paper tessen and snapped it right in front of Sakuno's nose with a crack like a gunshot.

"Do not assume—" Ryoma made to speak and she hit him on the bill of his cap with it."Do not assume that just because you have insulted Atobe-sama means that we're so lacking in generosity of spirit we'll just sit back and let the stupider club members vandalize another business's property. What happened to your booth the last time—Atobe-sama and the rest of us won't let it happen again."

Two months ago Sakuno would have put credence in these fine phrases and assertions, would have bowed her thanks without hesitation; now there was no security in her heart. Nothing was as it was or as it seemed. The deepest promises passed away into emptiness if circumstances changed enough, and everything was changing.

Sakuno had smiled as best she could and gave a half-bow. Ryoma-kun had eyed her reaction with a twist of his mouth and the Hyotei girl's cheek had dimpled wryly at one side.

"Your lack of faith is a little rude, but—ah, if my booth got vandalized before I wouldn't trust me either. Can't blame you. To tell the truth," the Hyotei girl had said again, "I'll be glad when this is all done. It's not as much fun being in the clubs when we're not focusing on tennis. If I never hear your name spoken in a club meeting ever again, Ryuuzaki Sakuno, it'll be too soon."

"You have no idea," Sakuno had concurred. "It's been a bad summer."

"For all of us."

The Hyotei girl 's head had lowered so that her eyes did not peer so steeply down her nose at them. The idle, almost forlorn waves her tessen had created puffs of humid breeze and cooled all of their faces. Taking this as an opportunity for departure, Sakuno had started to move away with Ryoma when the girl had called out after her:

"And don't worry about anyone from Hyotei giving you grief for that stupid fake picture. I know how bad it is to have people talk meanly about you and it's not true. I'll do my best to shut them up. Can't stop them from talking behind your back, but don't expect a smear campaign from us. Hyotei should be—_is_ better than that."

"Thank you," Sakuno had said. The girl had given another crack of her tessen.

"Well, I didn't join this club to be mean to people. Don't get me wrong—Hyotei will still crush you like a grape, fair and square! We just need to have more class about it."

"Good luck with that while you still have the Monkey King around," Ryoma had muttered, low enough that the Hyotei girl could not catch it; the threat of a tessen to the face sometimes brought about remarkable self-restraint. Sakuno had thanked the girl a last time and steered him away, their errand done, in the direction of her favorite fish market.

"I'm glad that they didn't try anything," she had mused along the way, "and I hope she doesn't get too close to the booth. I'd totally forgotten. After the first time I had problems, Taka-san and Fuji-senpai helped me rig some of the fireworks I got from Niou-san to go off if anyone reaches over the counter or opens the door without undoing the trip wires. We should probably take them down soon."

Sakuno tromped over the last step with a great effort, her legs wooden from the day's exertion and sweat dripping into her eyebrows. Ryoma had disappeared onto the landing long before and when she caught up he was heading towards the entrance to the house. He gestured for her to wait as he went in. She put down her package of fresh fish and sat down to rest. She put her feet on the step below her and looked back over the path they had traveled, down the hill to the metropolis below.

People walked the sidewalks, cars filled with people filled the streets, homes housing people sprawled below her; there were so many of them. And each one of those people held the power to hurt, to ignore, or help in their hands—the possibilities made her sick with dizziness.

Sometimes the thought of so many people frightened her.

Her Grandma was so bold, and she was also a full-blooded Japanese girl living in Tokyo. She should never be afraid so of people. They had surrounded her since she was a baby, they squashed her on the bus and swarmed about her in the halls every day. Girls she had thought friends and laughed as they called her a slut this morning had sat with her and Tomo in the lunch room last month, had played with her on the courts and cheered on the Seigaku boys with her. Staring down at so many human beings and wondering about them all, she even felt afraid of what her Grandma's old tennis team was doing right now, whether they had laughed at her and if they had said anything cruel. Until this morning she would have never thought they, too, had the potential to hurt her, to deceive her with false politeness and friendship.

It was easier, she thought, when people outright bullied her and tried to beat her up, not string her along and make her jump through hoops. It was simpler. When she had agreed to come to terms with Hyotei, when she had gone to Kanagawa, she had not expected to be treated thus.

When I am older, she thought, I will move far away from this city and go to the countryside. They need bakers there as well, and I won't be around so many people. It would probably be better for Grandma's health, too. This is too much for me. I wish I could have a fresh start.

Ryoma emerged from the house carrying a glass of chilled water. As she drank it greedily he said, "I checked inside and it's all clear. The old man's asleep and Rinko's gone. If you want to take a nap in the guest room no one will bother you."

To be be asleep, to feel nothing, to be a figure of shame and absurd sluttiness no more! The prospect brightened her mood and dulled the aches in her body and she followed him eagerly through the temple archway.

Shoes were slipped off and discarded in the sunken entryway, but Ryoma scooped her patent leathers up in one hand("If he sees them he'll know a girl's here"), grunting at her to go fetch some freshly-sliced watermelon from the kitchen refrigerator. She tried to pad about in her stockings and Ryoma winced at every step she made. Sakuno did not understand such paranoia. She couldn't be afraid of an old lech she had beaned before, after all; nonetheless, she was bound to follow the rules of this house which so rarely extended hospitality.

Plate of cool watermelon in hand, she passed through the main sitting room with its tatami matting and low tables, hesitating as to which direction she needed to go. It reminded her of the difficult story she had been assigned to read in English class last year where the condemned man had to choose a door and behind it would either be a beautiful woman to marry or a tiger, except here behind one doorway lay a lovely cool dark room to rest in and behind the other was a sleeping pervert.

She listened in for any telltale sounds of movement or snoring and heard only the ambient noises outside. All was still. As she continued to hesitate, Sakuno spotted an open magazine laid out on one of the tables. A picture of a demure woman far too old for the skimpy schoolgirl fuku cast its alluring gaze from the page. Sakuno frowned deeply against the sting of memories from earlier in the morning—a baby, Tomo-chan had called her, how much she didn't understand, how badly the world was going to chew her up.

Well, if that was the way things were going to be, Sakuno thought, she wasn't afraid of some simple pictures. She had seen men on the subways and trains reading naughty magazines and manga before, no matter if she had either looked away or her grandmother had distracted her on purpose. She could handle this. Then she could have something to counter Tomo-chan's boasts about her shounen-ai and yaoi. It didn't matter if maybe looking at a girlie magazine might not count as much since she wouldn't be seeing anything she hadn't seen before in the mirror after a shower. Any kind of leverage would be good.

The page turned underneath a shaking but determined hand. Sakuno's bare toes curled as she stared at the next set of photographs. This was what Japanese men liked. She'd have to make a careful study of this; she needed to make sure she was exactly the opposite in as many ways as possible. A comparison of their chests left her feeling a little bit better—she owned a fine,slender chest any true-blooded Japanese lady uncorrupted by impossible Western standards would be proud to own! She did not care that she was so distraught as to fall back on good old-fashioned nationalism to make herself feel better. It was the truth.

Continuing on. The normally cheerful schoolgirl-woman in the previous picture now had her shining eyes brimming with unshed tears, her arms wrapped around her and cringing away from something. Sakuno gulped down her apprehension and resolved to keep from being a crybaby from this day until the day she died. She would smile and be happy and never say the word 'iya' ever again. She also needed to keep wearing track shorts underneath her skirt.

The continuing weepy erotic adventures of the schoolgirl model and her impossibly young principal exploded into a pile of creamy fluff, dark paws, and round blue eyes. Sakuno slumped back on the matting in a near faint. Karupin wriggled and tossed about on the smut without a care in the world.

"Oh, hello there, Karupin-chan!" she finally managed. Like his other Himalayan brothers with their sweet and friendly temperaments, Karupin lolled about some more before sniffing her proffered fingertips in greeting. Her heart was crashing down from its adrenaline high as she rubbed Karupin's ear with tentative strokes.

"You saved me, Karupin-chan. I don't know from what, exactly, but you still saved me." Her whispers shook into giggles. "I think I'm going crazy; I'm all mixed up. But look at you, flopping around like a fish. You're mixed up, too. You're a kitty-fish! Kitty-fish!"

After Karupin leapt off the table Sakuno followed behind him as he ambled about, neither of them moving with any purpose. "Oh, Karupin-fish," she sang very softly, "won't you be mine? I'll give you plushy toys and kibble-bits and wine—"

"What the hell are you doing to my cat?" Ryoma's flat demand broke up the song before she came up with a second verse to further insult Karupin's pride. She did not answer Ryoma's question—it was obvious what she was doing, singing love songs to a cat! She settled for ducking her head in apology, and she followed after his impatient beckoning.

She entered into a sparse, dark room, the windows shaded and a futon spread out on the floor. Sakuno sank heavily down on the blankets. Ryoma pulled up a pillow to sit beside her and they took slices of watermelon from the plate set between them. For a time they did not say anything, filling the silence with the sounds of their eating and the soft patter of flicking the black seeds into a pile on the plate. It was so lovely and dark. The watermelon was so sweet and cool in her mouth.

"Have you finished assembling your cooking team?" Urgency jerked her out of her lethargy as if she had awoken from being half-asleep; her mind tumbled and her fingers tingled with numbness. At the shake of her head Ryoma nonchalantly spat out some watermelon seeds and continued, "If you need someone, I could try to be there. I don't really want to, you know, since I need to practice on the weekends, but I can do it."

She looked over at his face, so perfect in the haughty insouciance that brought opponents and admirers alike to their knees in defeat, watermelon juice dripping from one corner of his mouth, and knew that she had totally cracked. She was not losing her mind, her mind had jumped ship long before this. How did she know? Because she did not spring at his words, did not feel the old sheer elation and butterflies at having him do something to stand up for her. There was only the weight of being indebted to Ryoma-kun yet one more time, to have him rescue her from her own mistakes. He was being so kind, and the kindness lodged in heart like a stone.

There was only one way she could think of to match all the kindness he had shown her.

"No, thank you, Ryoma-kun. You've done so much for me already. I'll find others to help me—I already have Ann-chan lined up. It won't be hard to ask around."

"What?" he demanded, face suddenly snappish like a turtle's, "Why not? Look at you; you're still a mess. You need all the help you can get. _Mada-"_

Sakuno did not trust herself not to scream if he continued. "Ryoma-kun, we both know you can't cook worth a darn. You've never taken a Home Ec. class, you don' make bento. Even Horio-kun has more experience in a kitchen than you. And he once put baking soda into vinegar when he tried to make salad dressing."

"How hard can it be?"

"Ryoma-kun, can you tell me the difference between Dutch-process and non-Dutch process cocoa powder? Do you know _exactly_ why sashimi tastes watery and a little gooey if you don't slice it the right way? The chemical reactions that make a souffle rise and what causes them to flop?" He just sat there, not even grunting, as inert and dumb as the pillow under his legs. Sakuno knew she should just let the matter stand there, but the sting was too much to keep silent. She spun away from him and crabbed up her arms and legs around her.

"Just when I think you've gotten so much nicer, you say something like that," she said to the wall. "When you were teaching me tennis, I never said 'how hard could it be?'. I knew it would be hard, especially for a klutz like me, and I knew it was so important to you. And now you're telling me you think that what I'm doing, what I want to be, is useless. That's as mean as anything you've said to me."

"I didn't say it was useless," Ryoma snapped.

"It was the way you said it. And only someone who doesn't care thinks that good cooking isn't hard."

His hands were clutching his knees as he uttered each word very slowly, laboring over each painful syllable like they burned his mouth. "I'm sorry, Ryuuzaki. That came out wrong. You know that I'm not—_skillful_ with words when I'm not in class or playing tennis. I only meant to say that, that if you told me what to do, just simple things to help you out and save time while you're cooking, I could do them."

He floundered around so desperately that Sakuno felt almost as awful as she had in the morning. Ryoma-kun talked of being unskillful, but she doubted he could botch up everything like she was doing today. Ryoma-kun, Tomo-chan, almost everyone else deserved better (Atobe and Rikkai could stuff it).

She reached out to cover Ryoma's knee and hand; he flinched at the contact but did not draw away.

"I do need help. I'm such a twerp that I might continue to need lots of help for a long time," she murmured. "But you've done enough for me. You and the others on the tennis team, have enough to do. The city tournaments start soon. I think you should focus on the things that you really consider most important. I'm not going to interfere with your schedule any more than I have, Ryoma-kun." He made a mulish face under her unusually high-handed manner, and she moved her hand a little past his knee so his attention would not be on her brightening face. "But I would like you to come on the day we'll be cooking, if you want. I'll be looking for you in the crowd. Be there!"

Belly filled with watermelon and all her energy spent from the recent wild emotional fluctuations, Sakuno fell back onto the futon in a gaping yawn. If he had anything else to say, Ryoma put it aside as he stood up silently and closed the door.

Sometime during her rest Karupin had slid open the door a crack and join her nap. The warm lump on top of her went unregistered in her torpor. What brought her up from the cool refreshing darkness in her head was Nanjiroh's blaring voice and Ryoma's shouts. Scuffling noises sounded from somewhere nearby, perhaps Ryoma's room.

"No more stalling, seishounen. I must meet this magical creature who has sneaked her way into this house and your disrespectful hellmonkey heart." The door slid open without further warning, Nanjiroh entering with her shoes dangling from one hand. Sakuno bolted upright on the futon, braids twisting in all directions, and bowed to him. She didn't know if Nanjiroh had any real decency left in him from his years of letting his basest instincts run wild in this little temple, but she had to make a good second impression.

"Thank you for letting me stay in your house, Echizen-san," she said, demure as she could manage. Suddenly she was reminded of the coy little adult schoolgirl in the magazine and, seeing a sleazy smile crescenting through Nanjiroh's stubble, tried another way to keep him from saying anything for as long as possible. She grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at his face.

Nanjiroh caught the pillow easily in one hand, his smile losing its oil in the presence of a challenge. "Not so tough without your beans are you, missy?"

"I was only trying to give you a little something to help wake you up from your nap," her words tumbled out and she bustled about to collect her thoughts. "A shock to focus your thoughts-just like in Zen! Do you feel more enlightened?"

It was very polite of both of them to listen to her babble for what it was, considering that Nanjiroh was Shinto.

Ryoma shouldered his father aside before any lascivious remarks were uttered. "He needs a swift kick in the ass, not a pillow to the face. But you also promised to make some onigiri and sashimi, and sensei before you went home, Ryuuzaki, and school's out now. Sensei wouldn't want you getting home late."

"Ah!" She snatched her shoes from the monk's grasp. "I also promised the Kawamuras that I'd help in the kitchen tonight. So much to do. Excuse me!" She ran out of the room, one shoe still unbuckled.

"And how about some miso while you're at it, sweetie-chan" Nanjiroh called. "No girl can hope to be my honorable daughter-in-law if she can't make a decent miso."

"Mom hardly makes miso," Ryoma's faint pointed out. His father's braying laugh easily reached her ears.

"That's because, unlike you, I like Western food. And your mom definitely stacks up in other ways, ways that count even more than cooking. Your little ojou-chan is sweet, but, ah well. Curves are best, but good food always does in a pinch."

She did not mind repaying hospitality, and the foods they wanted were quick enough to make, but the presumption— make me some miso! daughter-in law!— she could not endure. Sakuno was not gauche or disrespectful enough of her work to spit in any food that she made, but while the dashi for the soup simmered she scraped at her upper arm and brushed off the scales into the pot. They floated seamlessly amongst the bonito flakes. The brief sweetness of revenge allowed her to cheerfully cook and shape rice and strips of seaweed around thin slices of yellowtail filling to make the tennis-ball onigiri that, according to Kin-chan, tasted just as good with hints of dirt and a grass fleck or two. The rest of the yellowtail lay upon pillows of the remaining rice.

Nanjiroh sat down to eat while Ryoma grabbed an onigiri from the platter, saying he would eat it as he saw her down to the bus-stop. They gave him a wide berth as they passed so that when the incorrigible letch reached out to pat her thigh in passing, his fingers met only air.

They made it to the entry hall when Nanjiroh yelled after them: "You better get your butt in gear and do something quick, seishounen, before she goes off with someone else. She cooks_ and_ she reads the same porn I do—that's more than you've ever done! You're sitting on a gold mine!"

"I don't read your filthy porn!" she shouted back on instinct, but everyone knew that such protestations never helped. Was the man so obsessed, she wondered as she shoved her clumsy feet into her shoes in all haste, that he remembered exactly where he had left off reading, right down to the page?

She would learn later that, yes, he did have a very good memory for that kind of thing.

Neither of the two spoke on the trek downwards, both too awash in shame to attempt any kind of conversation.

"I'm sorry about my old man," Ryoma-kun gritted out at last. They had reached the bus stop and the silence had finally grown too much for even him to bear. Sakuno waved his apology off and seized the opportunity granted to her by their mutual embarrassment to swing things towards an idea that had been germinating in her subconscious since her nap.

"If you ever get bored and want to try something new, Ryoma-kun, I'd be happy to show you a little about how to cook. If your mother won't cook Japanese food often enough, then maybe you'd like to make some on your own. You've helped me with English and tennis, so it's only fair. If you want to, that is."

She scuffed her shoe against the concrete with such force in her inability to look at his face that she could have almost lit a match. The most difficult thing about trying to be a friend with a boy was that there were few simple questions and even fewer simple solutions. All she wanted to do was to spend time in his company. She had always wanted to learn more about him—but how could she expect to know Ryoma-kun when he knew just as little, if not more, about her? She and Taka-san had talked enough during their time working together that he at least knew that she had only her Grandma to introduce to anyone who came into her apartment. Had Ryoma-kun heard anything, had he been interested enough to find? She doubted it. Boys had better things to do than speculate about their coach's family history in the locker rooms.

"We'll see," Ryoma said. He was bold enough to always refuse flat-out when he did not want to do something. Sakuno twinkled her eye at him through a pleased blush. She should probably bring him over to the Kawamura restaurant for any future lessons because it would be more fun that way, and Taka-san could teach her how to karate chop him if he scoffed at her too many times.

Later. These things must be pushed aside; she had no more room for other plans. Later. Relaxation and pleasure were far away. She had to keep to the task at hand.

"Ah, and Ryoma-kun?" He quirked his head at her. "I feel much better, and thank you for everything—but let's please not stay over at your house while your father's there ever again."

"Ryuuzaki, I thought you'd never ask."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Ten different types of rice steamed under plastic lids and sauces bubbled; a creme caramel baked in a water bath in one of the ovens while another quivered into perfect consistency in cold storage; vegetables and fish were laid out and diced under her hands. School may knock her for a loop, friends and acquaintances may gossip, but no matter how busy the pace became or how difficult the techniques were, nothing spiraled out of control in the Kawamura kitchen. She probably would never get all of her calculus problems correct or learn English in this lifetime, but here she felt there was nothing she could not learn with time and practice. Nothing was impossible. Every stroke she made with a knife happened because she made it happen, having decided what to do on her own (and sometimes Kawamura-san's) judgment. Every dessert she baked came out well largely because she had made it just so.

It also did not hurt that she worked with good company. Sakuno knew her skill with the full range of kitchen knives still had much to be desired, mostly due to her residual hesitancy around sharp things; but Taka-san's way of cutting and slicing showed nothing except confidence and artistry. He had not quite matched his father, but he was becoming a fine _itamae_. He practiced slicing the whole skin off potatoes, apples, or daikon radishes in a single, unbroken strip every evening and he could split open fish heads the size of her thigh with nothing but his knife. The periods between sharpening knives were growing longer and longer. As a tennis player he had been known for his power and nobody, including Sakuno, had thought Taka a graceful person; here moved with subtlety and economy.

From the moment she had seriously considered the people who would be on her team, Sakuno had wanted no one else to be her second-in-command and her main sous-chef than Taka-san. She put so much stock in him that she had never summoned the courage to ask him; she knew if he refused she was sunk. A single good cook could not compete with a team of aspiring near-professionals with Hyotei resources. She needed all the skillful people she could get.

On several tries she skewed a quick glance over at the back of his shirt as it undulated with the chopping motions of his shoulder blades, working her throat to speak, but then, feeling too ashamed, cast her attention back to her own station. Exasperated with herself, she resolved that in five minutes she would either take her chance or—

Another dart of the eyes and Sakuno found Taka-san's neck and face tilted back, mirroring her own position. The knife in his hand slammed instead of sliced through the fish. He muttered to himself, popping the now-unfit sashimi into his mouth.

The absurdity of this dance could be borne no longer, so Sakuno whirled to put a stop to all this nonsense. Taka had the same idea; their noses came a hair's breadth of brushing each other as they turned. Eyebrows flew up and eyelashes fluttered in surprise. Then they both dissolved into snickers, each one bidding the other to talk fir_s_t.

"Are you doing okay? I heard you missed most of school," Taka-san managed to break the impasse.

Here he was looking at her with such kindness. In return for that here she was, wanting more than what he had already freely given her—pinpricks danced down her arms in her shame.

Oh, Taka-san, she thought, I'm so sorry, but I will bake you a thousand million creme caramels if you say 'yes' to helping me. That's how badly off I am.

"Do you remember," he began abruptly after she had reassured him that she was feeling well, "about two months ago, when Mom was sick and Dad wanted to stay up in their room with her, so after the rush he left me alone out at the front while you helped cook back here? It was getting late and the other chefs had gone. And then this old man—"

"Oh, yes!" Sakuno laughed shakily at the memory. "The scary one, built like a Daruma statue, only with arms and legs. But very old fashioned."

"Geta and haori and naga juban and everything. I remember he had some of the sushi that I prepared—he fussed a bit about them but at least he ate them. But when he ordered the miso soup that we had prepared, he tasted it and started yelling at me. Said it was just like instant miso. I was thinking he'd throw it right in my face. Let me tell you, Sakuno-chan, I've never been more scared. I'd rather fight with Akutsu a million times than face him again. I was so scared that Dad would come down and have to apologize to him, and I'd have screwed up everything because we hadn't made that night's dashi the proper way."

Sakuno moved closer towards him with a roll of her eyes at the demands and the shouts she had heard all the way back in the kitchen. "Well, everyone except the really high-fashioned places uses the pre-sliced flakes for their dashi."

"I went back into the kitchen to stall for time and I felt like I was going to throw up. I was about to go crazy, Sakuno-chan. But then you asked what was wrong, then told me to help you look for our old hand-worked slicer, and we finally found it-"

"After we'd tossed everything from the cabinets, Taka-san. I was just as nervous as you were. I was about to cry myself."

"You sliced the bonito by hand, showed me how to make the dashi without it smelling fishy, and when the guy drank the soup he just harrumphed and finished it."

"Maybe he was a relative of Sanada-san's," she suggested. They came to a swift consensus that not even the Sanada family would be such cultural throwbacks in public. Perhaps he was a time-traveler instead.

Sakuno kept on laughing at the old fears and panic of that night. After that ornery customer had gone they had both felt they had escaped from the jaws of death itself, so they had taken a three-fourths drained bottle of sake and finished it off between them. They ended up giggling like loons by the time her Grandma came to pick her up; apparently they were both hopeless lightweights. Sakuno assumed that her off-kilter manner had been dismissed as jangled nerves trying to come back together. At any rate, nothing else was said about it. Both she and Taka-san had taken their first real drinks of alcohol that night. It was their big secret.

From the way Taka-san leaned on his elbow to angle in next to her, she felt that they were on the verge of sharing another secret. He had stopped laughing and looked at her with a gravity that she normally expected from Tezuka-buchou. "I didn't tell you then, and I've been too uncomfortable to say it, but you have no idea how you helped saved face for me—for the whole restaurant—that night. And here I've been the past few weeks, just standing here like an idiot and watching you get bullied and made fun of without doing anything. I haven't been a very good senpai to you."

The self-recrimination in his eyes matched her own bouts of inadequacy, of not being good enough, all too painfully. Sakuno wanted to deny Taka-san's judgment, but he kept on going.

"I just wanted to say: if you need anything, anything all I can do for you, Sakuno-chan, please tell me." His hands clasped hers. His fingers trembled. "I want to help you out."

"Would you," Sakuno asked, "would you be my main sous-chef, Taka-san? You're the best cook near my age that I know. And someday you'll be just as good as your dad, if not better. I wouldn't ask anyone else."

At the mention of his father Taka-san's mouth slackened and his eyes brightened like she had given him the greatest compliment in his life and he had gone half-way into Burning Mode. He did not even speak. He nodded and squeezed her hands. His entire face up to the forehead and down into his neck glowed red.

As she laughed at Taka-san's happiness, a strange sense of wonderment seized her, a chrysalis made from memories and perceptions ripping open inside her mind. Some people like Ryoma-kun, Fuji-senpai, and Tezuka-buchou easily displayed their best qualities for all to admire. They were wonderful people who shone with blinding brilliance, unconsciously eclipsing others who also had brilliance, but of a different kind.

Sakuno flinched inwardly at her old self—she did that so often now—at how she would cheer so hard for Ryoma-kun and never miss one of his games, yet sometimes she would not stay around for the singles matches that Taka-san had played in. Now he would not play actively again. There would be no more tournaments.

"Taka-san," she informed in a whisper, "I think that you had better watch out, because I'm this close to giving you a big hug if you don't get out of the way. I won't be able to stop myself."

He did not make any moves to avoid her, so she removed her hands and threw her arms around Taka-san's big, solid frame. He was so strong that she didn't feel she had to keep from squeezing with all her might. And with all that, it still seemed a paltry way to reward him. She turned her head next to his ear and kissed him on the cheek.

She didn't know all the rules about kissing, so she didn't know whether or not it counted as her true first kiss, an indirect one, or something different altogether. In that moment, her body's inherent shyness screaming at her to release him from her hug but still game enough to hold on for a few seconds longer, she didn't give a damn. The future was falling into place. She would go to Tomo-chan and tell her she was sorry and do what she could to patch things up. She would ignore the other girls and not give Rikkai the time of day. She'd never let Hyotei cut her hair. And she would find more helpers. She could probably force the Ichinen Trio into service—they had taken the stupid pictures anyway.

She would enjoy every moment she spent in this kitchen tonight working beside Taka-san.

Releasing each other was an awkward business and they gave each other weak smiles from embarrassment. Mr. Kawamura's voice, greeting customers, rang out from the front. Mrs. Kawamura came back for orders, and by then they had gone back to their original work places. Nothing in their old workflow had changed. All Mrs. Kawamura said was that the rush hadn't begun and they were both bouncing on their feet in excitement already.

Once the older lady had left, Taka-san craned his head back at her. "Oh, yes! The guys on the tennis team also heard you had to leave school, so they all chipped in for a treat. Fujiko went out and bought it. He dropped it by this afternoon. He said he hopes you like it. There's a get-well card, too."

In a quick break before the evening crunch, Sakuno tore open the card. A picture floated down from the middle of it and she snatched it before it hit the ground. She didn't know what computer sorcery and photographer's witchcraft Fuji-senpai had used, but there in her hand was the original photo of her at Kanagawa, the other people cut out, leaving only her and her unbound hair. At the bottom of the photo, written in Fuji's hand, read: _You look very cute without braids, Sakuno-chan. But don't let Echizen or anyone else tell you to cut them._

The small package that came along with the card opened up to reveal a small chocolate bar. Godiva chocolate! He wasn't anywhere nearby, but Sakuno would not give him the satisfaction of getting more than a grumble out of her.

"Fuji-senpai, sometimes I really hate you."

Her earlier fears from that day seemed so childish and petty.

Sometimes she really did love people.

**PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT**

With a renewed vigor Sakuno went round to work on devising her menu. She spent the next few nights coming up with things she thought would appeal to her and Taka-san's strengths, drawing up sketches of potential ways to plate the dishes and show them off in the best way. The only TV she watched was the cooking channel. When she wasn't pouring through cookbooks or observing chefs in action, she was cooking. Meals for her and her Grandma! Treats for her lovely senpai! Make-up sweets for Tomo-chan! Wasabi-filled buns for her enemies! (She didn't have the heart or guts to send them out.)

And so, on this Friday night, sitting at home alone while her grandmother worked late at the middle school, she was making the finishing touches on her menu to send to Atobe. She planned to send Taka-san a copy as well, so he could start preparing. The rules she and Hyotei had agreed upon stated that neither cooking team could practice making the menu beforehand or make any major last-minute changes, but they could still review their ideas and think about how best to prepare them.

There was a knock at the door. She hurried from the table. Pops accentuated her knees' every movement as she stumbled towards the entrance. Ever since her Grandma had once locked herself out six years ago after needing to fetch something from the apartment for an important meeting and Sakuno had napped through all of the banging and cursing, she had been conditioned to answer with lightning quickness. It had taken a week before that nasty thundercloud passed from their home. She opened the door wide, unthinking, a smile ready for her grandmother's entrance—

The delicate scent of orchids, so purple they were nearly midnight black, and not of the familiar jasmine greeted her. The unexpected sight of the flowers and the way she had come a centimeter of shoving her nose into them as she leaned out the door dazzled her for a moment. Next she focused on their bearer: Sanada, capless, out of uniform, and dressed in a suit. He was frowning with such solemnity that she began to feel afraid that the flowers were for her own wake. Marui stood next to him, sugar-eyed and holding a parcel wrapped in fine paper. Two heads bowed deep in the supplication position flanked them, the silver-haired one on the right and the unruly black mop on the left.

As she realized that she had come across yet another problem that needed solving, that Sanada looked downright unnatural and was squeezing the life out of the orchids, and that she had nobody to back her up in a four-against-one confrontation, Sakuno's panic overrode her politeness. To hell with all that, her body seemed to decide on its own accord, nobody from Rikkai Dai would set foot in her home and give her cause for more grief.

She slammed the door. There—now her problem went away, if only for a moment so she could regain herself.

"_Oh god, you broke his nose!"_

Sakuno flung the door back open in her terror, but there were no broken or even bloodied noses, only a very annoyed quirk of Niou's lips. "We're trying to apologize, ya dumb ditz-loaf." Sanada's chop to the back of his neck sent Niou's nose crashing against the floor.

"You shut up. You have no right to speak in household. You've done enough damage," snapped his fukubuchou. He offered the bouquet along with a deep bow from the waist. "I know you are angry, Ryuuzaki-san. We have no excuse. But please at least grant us the opportunity to apologize. I am ashamed and sorry for the trouble my team has put you through. I wish to make amends."

"We're so sorry," Marui cried, thrusting the package towards her. "We never meant this to happen—check that, everyone except Rat-Bastard Boy here. But now we're here to help. The strong must protect the sweet!"

Sanada gave a quelling glare that left Marui shaking, then he turned back to her, every fiber in his being radiating dignity. He continued to gently held out the orchids, locked in his bow.

"Ryuuzaki-san, if you would be so kind as to let us in, I would like to humbly beg your forgiveness. I also would like to have further words with you about how we might assist you in your current situation."

Her grandmother would be coming home sometimes soon, and Sakuno did not want to have to explain why the Rikkai Dai team members were milling around outside in their hall like moonstruck calves. She might as well hear what they had to say; it would be very inhospitable to send them away now.

She opened the door. Sanada stepped in with Marui trailing behind. Kirihara and Niou made to move as well but Sanada barked at them to stay in the supplication position until he had come back out again and given them permission. "And don't think of moving around and then getting back on your knees when you hear me coming. _I'll know."_

Sakuno placed the orchids in the center of the dining table, trying to gather her wits. She spoke the first words that she could form solidly in her throat as she turned to her guests.

"Would you care for some tea?"

_Sorry for the schedule slip, everyone. I hope this long and unaturally romantic (for this story) chapter makes up for the wait. Like all my chapters it's not perfect, but I couldn't keep you guys waiting any longer! Also, I think I totally trolled some people with my summary for this chapter. I'm (kinda sorta not really) sorry.  
_

_NEXT: The last chapter! A monumental kitchen showdown. Who lives? Who dies? Who will end up weeping the dust? Why are you even asking me? _


	12. Adventure11:Unfit for a Training Montage

_A/N: The last chapter was so massive, I thought it would be easier to read if I broke it up into two parts._

_Once again, I appreciate everyone who has enjoyed this not-so-little romp. I am very satisfied indeed that it's finally over. Aside from going back and fixing the most egregious typos and inconsistencies (of which there are massive amounts, I'm sure) and also taking out the A/N's (they're nice, but distract from the flow of a story) everything's done. Looking back, I wish I could have figured out a way to keep the middle school teams together without having to make fictional high-schools that coincidentally have similar or the same names, but that's an awkward conceit I'll just have to live with. I really hate the ideas of these beloved teams splitting up after only one year together, so I wanted to keep them together until college at all costs. New Prince of Tennis? HAHAHAH WHAT'S THAT?_

_Thanks once again to everyone for their patience for the long time it took to finish this story. If there are any people still around who read it when it first began almost six years: your loyalty is touching and terrifying. _

_As always, have fun, enjoy, and be excellent to each other.-TKD_

SAKUNO ADVENTURE #11: UNFIT FOR A TRAINING MONTAGE

The terrifying thing about playing hostess to Sanada-san was that he operated on such an outmoded style of etiquette, the kind followed by people before they lost the war, that Sakuno felt that she had to dance over needles to avoid offending him, playing the penitent for his team as he was. Marui-kun, on the other hand, would be easy to accommodate with a liberal application of pastries to his gullet. But there was Sanada-san, sitting in perfect _seiza_ on a _zabuton_ at the table, engulfing the dining room with his weighty presence and frown and radiating propriety like an isotope. Should she run off to Grandma's room and thumb through her yellowing copy of Sen no Rikyu's works in case he demanded a full tea ceremony? The brew steeping in the kettle smelled cheap; the cups were soulless modern porcelain. He was turning her own home into a time warp. If he stayed too long they'd be all thrown back to the Shogunate, maybe even as far back as the Heian period. Her own kitchen was becoming foreign to her. Why, why had she let them in?

Her thought processes were not as original as she had expected, for in the next room Marui called out to her as she paced, "Don't be nervous, Saku-chan! Fukubuchou's not that old-fashioned. He'll enjoy anything you bring him. _Any_-thing. So if you have any pies, cakes, muffins, or other stuff in there—"

His voice trailed off in gluttonous suggestiveness, finishing with a slavering burble. She hoped that drool didn't warp wood. She had dithered in the kitchen too long. The tea was about ready and she had not selected the food to go with it. A small dash of luck: during the days of perfecting her baking techniques she had made a tres leches cake last evening. A slice of that would do for her less enigmatic guest. But back again to Sanada-san!

Sakuno exited the kitchen carrying the tray with the tea service; Marui ogled his cake in delight when set down for him. She next gave Sanada-san his tea along with peach slices, peeled and pitted and arranged in rows of three on the plate.

"Ah," nodded Sanada-san, "It's good to see someone appreciate the virtue of simplicity. If only others could learn from it." He frowned at the cake, which brought out some sweat under her arms, but her red-headed guest embraced his plate like a mother bear coddling her baby. "I have told you about Sen no Rikyu and the—"

"Not the watermelon story again, fukubuchou! Fruit for tea is boring. I want my cake!"

The dangerous moment past, she took her own teacup and settled down at the table. The orchids he had given her had been set in its center, the soft petal of one flower bending gently as she stroked it. "These are lovely, Sanada-san. Thank you."

After a placid sip of his tea, Sanada-san murmured a polite response and then spared no more time for pleasantries.

"Ryuuzaki-san, on behalf of our team, I have a request to make of you." Sanada's face and words held a ferocious solemnity, as if a temple guardian with its bulging eyes and gnashing teeth were now speaking to her. Her foot did a jangling dance of nerves under the table. People like Sanada-san and Tezuka-buchou infused everything with their freakish gravity and made the slightest choice seem like it had life or death consequences. Sakuno suddenly feared that if she botched this, she'd be a wandering schoolgirl forever, hounded from place to place, no home, no friends, no lord to serve.

"What is it you'd like me to do to help you, Sanada-san," she answered, taking some solace in the steadiness of her voice.

"That you allow us to make amends for causing you such embarrassment, as I mentioned before. I have talked this over with Yukimura-buchou and we think we've come up with a way to assist you in your current difficulty while giving you an opportunity to exact justice against my idiot teammates."

Who talked like this anymore? He must have written out this whole speech beforehand—in perfect calligraphy, probably—and memorized it on the way to Tokyo. She would not put it past him. Marui was rolling his eyes and flapping his hand in a 'yap yap yap' gesture; trying to suppress a smile at their shared assessment, Sakuno met his speech with corresponding dignity, even if she felt foolish and quaky inside.

"That's very kind of you, Sanada-san. I really think a simple apology like the one you've given is just fine, but what do you have in mind?"

Marui-kun slammed both fists on the table in his glee, his dimples and cheeks flecked with cake crumbs. "We have come up with a plan so clever, Sakuno-chan, that you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel!"

"That sounds-heavenly," she squeaked out at length, hoping to diffuse Sanada's incinerating glare with some humor, feeble as it was. A vein in one cheek throbbed but Sanada-san, forced his bared teeth back under a frown and continued.

"If you have not assembled your entire team already, we would like to offer you Niou and Kirihara as members. They have embarrassed you and shamed the rest of us, so we thought it fitting that they help you now."

If her cow-eyed, incredulous stare offended him, Sanada-san was too gentlemanly to express it. Sakuno stretched her lips into a thin, polite smile while she mentally gauged the distance from the table to her room, wondering how she could dodge past her guests and lock the door and hold out there until her grandmother could arrive to chase Rikkai out. But there was no escape. No Grandma crashed through the door to help her in this hour of need. Nothing in the kitchen exploded. No Godzilla attack. She actually had to sit here and consider this mad proposition and find some way to wiggle out without causing him to lose face; Sakuno had no doubt that Sanada-san had a lot of face to lose now.

"That is a very generous offer, Sanada-san. Thank you. But, ah—how exactly will Kirihara-san and Niou-san help me? Have they cooked before?" She hoped beyond hope that they were terrible cooks who burned water. Then she could refuse on solid grounds; yet Rikkai had to have considered that. Where did their trump card lie?

Sanada-san explained that Niou knew the very basics of cooking and measurement from his 'extracurricular interests' (Sanada's own words), but admitted Kirihara's lack of any real knowledge or training. "However, we feel that he will not slow you down, Ryuuzaki-san. He can be the clean-up man and he can simply fetch things when they're needed. With him on the team, the rest of the people who do know how to cook can focus solely on what they are doing. Besides, for all his apparent stupidity, Kirihara's a fast learner. Surely you could teach him how to chop up vegetables, how to work basic appliances like a blender, that sort of thing. We promise he won't be a burden."

"I want to be there, too!" Marui cried, his voice whining in betrayal. "I want to help with the cooking."

"No, thank you." Sakuno turned her mouth down past her normal, ineffectual angry pout into a bow-lipped scowl while shaking her head. Sanada blinked but once, obviously shocked at seeing any female frowning in his presence, before quelling the outburst.

"She is trying to _succeed_ in this endeavor, Marui. She can't do that if you're eating all of the food before she can serve it."

Taking the moment to rally up an argument, Sakuno remembered how Ryoma-kun had struggled to overcome his embarrassment and pride; turning around and accepting untrained help now would insult that effort. She tried to point out that even if she could find the time to instruct Kirihara in the basics and perhaps show Niou some more advanced cooking techniques, it would not be fair to her friend whose assistance she had already refused. After she had finished expounding this point, naming no names, Sanada nodded his understanding. Her nerves began to slacken at this sign, but immediately snapped back into high-strung tension as he spoke.

"Believe me, I appreciate your concern for your friend. However, this situation is not the same. This friend who offered help—do they owe you anything? Have they hurt you, embarrassed you in any way?"

"No," she admitted. Her teeth began to grit and she put her tongue in between the upper and lower rows so they would not grind together. Her toes curled behind her.

"Then that person has no need to feel insulted if you accept our help. There is no obligation there. But we have wronged you, Ryuuzaki-san, and it is Rikkai's duty to make amends. We must show that we are honorable."

"I don't think using any means to win and hurting your opponents in a match is the sign of an honorable group."

Once the words had flown out of her mouth Sakuno knew here she had made the one fatal mistake. She started cursing herself in the silence that followed. Sanada ate one bite of fish with lowered eyes; Marui just gaped and gaped for the entire length of quiet.

"Oh, _day-um_," whistled Marui. "I can't believe you actually said that, Saku-chan." He stabbed at his cake and his body language hovered in between offense and hurt. "I mean, it's true, the tears of our opponents are like candy to us, but you just don't _say _it. That's our team you're dissing!"

"I'm sorry. That was very rude of me. I spoke without thinking," Sakuno whispered, head bent over her plate. "I beg both of your forgiveness."

When she looked up, Sanada-san had a small, almost wistful smile greeting her, but his eyes were merciless. "There is nothing to forgive, Ryuuzaki-san. Neither of us will say anything. And now, let me continue. I've discussed this matter with Yukimura-buchou and we both agreed that we're not letting Niou or Kirihara come to practice this week. Instead, their time after school can be devoted to doing whatever you need them to learn. I'll provide them bus fare. Just tell them where to go."

"That's very good," Sakuno fought against the defeat trying to seep into her voice.

"I promise you, this will not disadvantage you in any way. They will help you."

He smiled at her then, a smile that squelched any further discussion or protest. Sakuno wished to never see it again, deciding that she greatly preferred the redoubtable, stoic Sanada-san. It made her all the more appreciative of the fact that Ryoma-kun, Tezuka-buchou and the others could stand up to a team so terrible that they made even good manners into their weapons. Murmurs of thanks were exchanged all around—Marui-kun only murmured because he was licking the crumbs off of his fingers—and Sakuno rose to clear away the plates and see them to the door. But Sanada-san rose in tandem with her, shaking his head and protesting that they would not make her clean after them. He went to the apartment door. She saw that Niou and Kirihara frozen in their deep bows exactly as they had been left, straining capillaries giving their bent faces a ruddy hue that was fetching but probably did not bode well for their health.

"You two, get up. Clear away the dishes and help Ryuuzaki-san clean up. We're going home."

The reprieve from nearly a half-hour of extreme physical comfort left the two wretches disinclined to make any complaints. They cracked the joints in their shoulders and elbows as they stood, relishing movement, while their fukubuchou passed by them as a river glides carelessly over the pebbles in its bed. Marui-san towed after him, giving one last wave to her and thanking her for the energy boost he'd needed for practice. While he waited for the elevator, Sanada did not turn around to face the imploring screams of "Fukubuchou!" and "Sanada-san!"

"You two have bus fair; you can get back on your own," he pronounced over Marui's snickers. The elevator came and they were gone.

Niou stalked into the apartment "They ditched us! I was hoping to at least go to practice today before we had to learn how to play fry-cook for Miss I'm-Too-Classy-For-Photoshop here. This sucks." More grousing continued as he set himself to snatching up plates and dumping them into the kitchen sink.

As tough a customer Sanada-san had been, Sakuno would have rather faced down ten Sanadas than one Niou in her apartment; at least ten Sanadas wouldn't try shoving cherry bombs down a drainage pipe or replace the sugar with talcum. She knew the gesture was out of good-will, but she had her fill of Rikkai's brand of good-will. Niou was looking to break all of her grandmother's best tea service and Kirihara was just standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded. Some help! She wanted to call Sanada-san and tell him to come back to deal with these most unhelpful assistants, but that would only make Sanada-san think up more ways to make amends, and quite frankly any more amends were going to kill her.

"No, no, you don't need to do all that," she finally said once Niou picked up the steel wool instead of a sponge. "Please, Niou-san! You've done enough. Won't you just—just _leave_? You can take your time at an arcade or something, take a cookie before you go, but don't help me any more. Please!"

"You'll tell fukubuchou," he drawled. The steel wool hovered deadly close over the glazed porcelain captives in the suds. She had to save them and save her entire home from these marauders.

"No, I won't. I swear on my braids! They can just shrivel up and fall out of my head if I'm lying."

Niou gave her such a calculating leer that she feared he was going to ask for her immortal soul. He cast his eyes to the small present Sanada-san had brought, still unopened, and set down the steel wool. "All right. I'll be leaving. See ya. Bye, Aka-chan," he called out. He shook his head at her stricken face. "You can barter the hell out of me when you're dealing with food, but you're still green, kiddo. I said I'd leave. He wasn't part of the bargain. But don't worry! I think you two'll make it just fine."

He smirked at his teammate as he sauntered by. "Don't say I never did you any favors, Aka-chan."

Kirihara went reeling from the force of Niou's conniving slap; Sakuno thought it best to overlook the whole thing and not make any comment upon for both their sakes. More pressing things had preoccupied her thoughts ever since returning from that troublesome vacation, but she had let things simmer, unexamined but not truly forgotten. Tomo-chan could make fun of her all she liked, but Sakuno was no dummy. She simply not need anything else in her trough of worries; if she dwelt too much on distractions, examining every signal and word, all hope for victory would go flying out the window. This was exactly why so many great geniuses didn't waste time on mooning over other people. Just look at Nikolai Tesla or Isaac Newton or Ryu from _Street Fighter_, their skills untrammeled by hormones! What heroic resolve! What wisdom! Only by following their example could she emerge victorious.

All the peep talk in the world did not banish the face that she did like him an awful lot, just as much as her sempai and Ryoma-kun and Ann-chan and Tomo-chan. And just as she hated it when Tomo-chan nagged at her or Eiji-sempai chatter on and on about a movie or television show she had never heard of and didn't care a lick for, she hated it when Kirihara acted like a big, potentially-violent baby. It was most unbecoming.

He had stalked into the kitchen to scoot cups and plates into the sink, not giving her a single grunt or glance. He did not bang the dishes together or treat them roughly, but she had seen Tomo's brothers do dishes in a petulant mood, and Kirihara mirrored all the signs perfectly: the rough, perfunctory scrubbing, the way he set down the cups a touch too firmly on the drying rack. He would have the exact same scowl as the Tomo's brothers too, moody and mulish.

Well, she'd be damned—boys played the cold shoulder card when they were angry, too. It was not a girls-only phenomenon. A discovery! At once she wanted to call up her girlfriends to share her findings, but since they both had brothers the thrill wilted, leaving her feeling like the second man on to set foot on the moon—beaten to the punch, robbed of true glory. There were few things as disappointing as finding out your genius was not original. . .

Her musings had made her forget all the grumping and slouching around in the kitchen until there was a shriek of fork-tines against a plate from the sink, followed by clatters and splashes. The silence seemed to exacerbate Kirihara's temper because then he whirled on her, nearly splattering her with the dishwater soaking his forearms. "Are you just gonna stand there and make me do all the work, or what?"

"Why are you angry with me? I haven't done anything to you—oh."

Sheepishly, she realized that the answer was so obvious that no impassioned lectures, glares, or violent fits from him were necessary She moved to stand next to him so she could start drying the dishes he shoved at her. Sakuno brushed away the initial fear that his grumpiness might snap into a red-eyed snarl, or worse, and she rubbed the dishes dry with rising annoyance. She did not take kindly to anyone making a mess on her nice kitchen floor, and dealing with Ryoma-kun last week had left her short on pussy-footing around awkward silences. Indeed, she usually found it easier to do with garrulous people like Tomo-chan, Kintarou-kun, and Kirihara himself when he was in a good mood since they could yap the day away without any help from her.

Grandma had gotten the kitchen sink updated a couple of years ago; this model had a detachable water sprayer that directed concentrated streams of water upon dishes so that the user could save on time sponging off grime and dried sauce. Her hand inched towards the nozzle. She prayed this gambit would not land her in a heap on the floor, the hospital, or morgue.

"I'm sorry you're mad, Kirihara-san. But you know, you're not the first person who's ignored me and been rude to me. I'm used to it. Still, that doesn't mean I like it. I feel scared that I'm a bad person and done something wrong. And how can I apologize or make things right when I don't really know how to do it? Not even girls can read people's minds, even if we act like we expect everyone else to. Annoying, isn't it? I know being ignored like that drives me crazy. Why, it drives me crazy enough to- _take a hose to 'em_!"

The water dripping from his hair and shirt pooled around his shoes. His eyes glittered with rapid flashes of emotion until he settled for a toothy sneer. "What the hell was that? I do your dishes after you ignore me for a week and this is what I get? You're just like that Tachibana chick. You need to have the bitchiness washed off of ya. Have a drink!"

Waves of dishwater careened past the divider in the sink in the ensuing struggle, he reaching to grab at her braids and force her face over the soapy mire as she squealed in laughter and shoved back. A minute or two later left them with their legs sopping and the floor looking more fit to be used as a koi pond than a kitchen. They panted from the horseplay, Kirihara's face shining with a refreshing verve that had wiped all the gloomy clouds away.

"And to think, Tezuka-buchou says violence is never the answer," Sakuno giggled, wringing out her skirt before she went to get the mop. Akaya-kun slapped the soapy mess from his trousers.

"That wasn't violence."

"You tried to drown me!"

"You did the same."

Incredulous, she shook her head over her mop. "I'll never understand boys. I don't talk to you for a week and that makes you mad and grumpy, but I splash you and tussle with you and you're suddenly feeling better?"

"Yep."

"Tomo-chan's brothers are like that, too. Are you an elementary schooler or what? No wonder Niou-san keeps on calling you-"

The task of wringing out the mop caused her to lose her guard; it allowed for him to flick her ear and snatch the mop from her. "Shut up. I hate that nickname."

"Aka—_kun,_" she dodged the suffix at the last second, the 'ch' melting into a delicious 'k' on her tongue. It was quite a shame she was too shy to tease most other friends like this; it was barrel of fun. But few people lent themselves to such easy ribbing as Akaya-kun. Maybe that was why his teammates always ganged up on him.

"Watch it, Saku-bunny-bun." He shook the mop at her, letting her take it for a final sweep to soak up the last of the water from the floor.

"Akaya-goon!"

"Sakuno-boobs!"

Some wounds were not ready to be pried open: the taunts and shame and the memory of those porn-worthy gazongas hit her hard, her arm curling around her torso. Akaya hissed something in self-reproach under his breath as she put away the mop with deliberateness. Now she felt awful for being so stupid and self-conscious, letting his cheerful mood slip away again, but before she could stammer out an apology he was muttering out how sorry he was himself.

"I never meant all that to happen," he plowed on gamely, obviously not accustomed to saying such things without coercion. "It was just a stupid thing I wanted to keep to myself. I didn't want to drag you into it. I mean, I really like you, Saku-bunny."

"And I like you, Akaya-kun. It's fine. I'm just sorry that I spoiled our fun. I hardly ever get to tease anyone like that. I'm t-too shy. See? I'm even st-stuttering a little. I was hoping I was growing out of it."

There! There she went bumbling as usual, heading towards that precipice of nasty complications. Perhaps one day she wouldn't be so afraid and let herself tumble down into the depths, let gravity take over and see where she landed. For the present, though, she was going to do what any normal heroine in her shoujo comics would do-dance around the issue and deny everything. But first things first. s]She had a guest in desperate need of a cure for his astonishingly uncomfortable mopiness, and she was tired of serving food for one evening. What did boys like besides food, she asked herself. Then she remembered.

"Akaya-kun, do you want to play some video games?"

That cheeky grin resurfaced. "You have a game system? What is it, a Famicom?"

"Hey! It's a Nintendo Wii. I'm not that uncool, you know. I don't have a lot of games, but I'm sure we'll find something. I know I have a racing game. We can play against each other—oh! Or maybe some of our friends are online and they can join in!"

She lead him to the sitting room and tossed him a controller while she set up the system. Her guest splayed out his knees as boys do when relaxing on a couch, twiddling his thumbs against the buttons in a warm-up routine. He grinned down at her when she started crawling back to sit on the opposite side of the couch. "Better watch out, Saku-bunny. I hope you're good at this, because I'll pound you flat. Only the strong win! The losers are booed and sent home crying to their mamas like the weaklings they are!"

"Oh, I don't think I'll be crying anytime soon, even if I do lose. I'm not a baby," she smiled, an sudden onset of serenity tinging her voice. His knee was very close. She nudged it with her own after they had selected their players and were at the starting line of the first racecourse.

"You know, we better make it a quick round. Grandma will be here any minute and she'll have kittens if she sees you here."

Kirihara's kart fell two places behind when his thumb slipped at the mention of that dreaded name. His eyes never left the screen, his teeth bared in concentration, and he reached out to tug a braid in retaliation. "That's something that I'd expect from buchou, not you. Rikkai's a good influence on you, admit it. You'd never do anything like that before you hung out with us. You're finally getting the hang of how to be a winner, Saku-bunny!"

Another smile, this one mild as the brush of a ume blossom's petal across her face as she laughed."I'm learning."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

She knew what other girls would say and do if they got wind of what was going on. If they didn't call her a slut, the marginally more imaginative ones would clasp their hands together and coo that she was such a lucky girl to work with cute boys and have them do everything she told them to do. It had to be paradise! It had to be so much fun! Surely it could never be a nightmarish exercise of Sisyphean proportions!

No one had made any pretension that Akaya-kun knew how to cook, or that Niou knew how to cook anything that was not intended to send a person running towards the bathroom. Scribbling down plans in a little notebook, Sakuno had come up with brief lessons to teach the boys the bare basics of how to chop, measure, and handle food properly. They would meet up in one of the Home Ec rooms after the school emptied; then she would instruct them, give them pointers as they worked at the assignments she gave, and they'd have fun and the dread she felt for the days ahead would be put to heel.

The dream died when Tomo-chan, right as the last bell rang, insisted on coming along for the sessions, and as the second lesson began the next evening _Ann-chan _(it was a very wicked conspiracy indeed when Tomo-chan invited Ann-chan into it) popped into the room, perched herself on a counter-corner, and dished out gazes and critiques that curdled acid.

In fairness, with or without the added help progress was less than optimal. When Niou had no interest in something, he was as animated as the skin on a pudding and just as useless. Akaya-kun, bless him, tried to do his absolute best for the first ten minutes and always had his face screwed up in tight concentration, but the intensity never lasted. Either Niou pulled some prank on him, or else he started using his cellphone, or he would get into a shouting match with Ann-chan or Tomo-chan.

The evening of the second day, with but three sessions left, Sakuno waited until they all went their ways and then sank into a crouch and wept. She wept hard enough to make her stomach ache and throat gag on air.

Once she had the strength to stand on her legs again, she wobbled the halls towards her locker to gather up her things. She fumbled around for her bag, and as it came out it knocked several things onto her foot. She stooped to pick them up: among the trinkets and textbooks she spied a girls' magazine and a shoujo manga. Tomo-chan must have slipped them in between classes in her continuous quest to educate Sakuno about modern young ladies' ways. The manga had a group scene off the heroines dressed in Playboy Bunny outfits. The magazine advertised a special feature on the Visual Kei scene, the colors, crisp lines, and bold forms snagging her line of sight from alighting on anything else. She had a weakness for such things. If properly and artfully arranged, she could meditate for hours on a photo of a cheesecake or a man dressed up in a carrot costume, trying to seek out meaning as desperately as an illiterate sinner tried to decipher the carving of the Virgin Mary chasing away the Devil over the doors of a cathedral in France, or as a young boy or girl in ancient China gazed upon scroll paintings to learn the virtues of piety. There was always something to be learned.

But she could not expect this philosophy to solve her problem. Niou and Akaya-kun were complete philistines. There was no point in trying to be cute and doodling out instructional cartoons on how to properly sift dry ingredients or peel vegetables in less than twenty seconds. Their attention needed to be riveted on her and her alone. To be enticed, enchained, and made to memorize everything she taught.

With one last survey of the magazines and manga at her feet, Sakuno decided that if she had wrecked her high school future beyond repair anyway, she could use the opportunity to expand her creative horizons. She might as well earn the licks that were coming to her.

She hadn't the time or skill to make elaborate costumes of her own, so she decided to make good on her credentials with the art department, which often collaborated with the theater clubs; she had painted sets for several plays already. She convinced a third-year girl, after many promises to immediately return anything she borrowed the very next morning, to give her access to the holiest of holies: the cosplay room. Three more evenings to go meant three costumes.

As the third evening rolled around, her pupils and her self-proclaimed proctors slouched into the room. Sakuno was lying in wait, bedecked in a mass of Gothic Lolita frills and dainty gloves, her hair cinched into wavy pigtails. She had gone so far into her plan that all timidity and blushes were locked deeply away. She smiled brightly at their stares and questions of "What the hell?" and "WHY?" and "Sakuno, what happened to your brain?" and ignored them. Tonight the Rikkai boys were going to learn how to chop anything into perfectly uniform pieces in less than a minute, whether or not they all died from inhaling the fumes of so many onions and radishes.

So she put brightness in her smiles, her glances at the boys alternating between total fluttering avoidance and full eye contact. Sweat soaked the cloth under her arms and forcing herself to look straight at those gobsmacked faces made her want to claw off her skin.

"Nothing's more handy than knowing how to chop," she leaned against her Hello Kitty parasol as she lectured. "Things don't cook as evenly if they're not all around the same size. People also might choke on a piece that's a little too big. But if you chop too much or put too much weight on the knife, you get a pile of mush. So, let me pass out the daikon and show you what I like to do. . ."

Sakuno made her steps flounce and put the slightest sway in her hips, the hoop-skirt skimming around her knees. The effect was supposed to be innocently alluring , but she suspected it was more on the disturbing side. She could settle for that. Nobody took their eyes off a crazy person who had cutlery and pans within easy reach. The boys would learn more quickly just to get away from her that much faster. And—if she did say so—the costume's long knit stockings did turn out her ankles and calves most becomingly. For once it looked like she had tone to her chicken-legs.

While the students gawked and chopped their daikon like perfect machines, Tomo-chan boiled in her seat, no doubt simmering up a nice tongue-lashing for later. Ann-chan busied herself taking pictures with her phone. A couple of times during the lesson Sakuno had to lean over the boys' desks to show them how to improve their techniques, and each time she heard a frenzy of small clicks. Ann-chan winked at her and kissed the phone. Sakuno had to admire her friend's cleverness; any extra blackmail ammunition to make the boys pay attention would help in making them behave.

When they could chop reasonably well, the boys penguin-shuffled off on their way toting sacks of vegetables for homework. Tomo-chan came flying up square into her face. "What the hell was that all about? Haven't you listened to me at all? I've been trying all week to salvage your reputation, but you're not making it easy!"

"I haven't done anything wrong, Tomo-chan. I'm simply experimenting. They weren't paying any attention to me, not really. I needed to try something different."

"Couldn't you try something that didn't make you look like a puffity Victorian skank factory?"

Sakuno frowned down at the layers of frill and ribbon going to her stockinged knees. "I'm not showing anything. I was going for cute."

"Is it cute to waggle your hips like that?" asked Ann-chan from behind her phone as she fiddled with it; her eyes twinkled rather than gleamed like Tomo's. "It was a bit much. But you do look cute, in a psycho way."

"You know I have wobbly hips," Sakuno sighed. She tugged at a lacy fold of her skirt. "I guess I did go overboard. I just wanted to make an impression. I'll need to wear something different for tomorrow."

"WHAT," screeched Tomo-chan. When everyone had regained their hearing, Ann-chan pursed her lips in contemplation.

"Try coming in a _sukeban_ costume next time. They're pretty popular now. Put some henna tattoos on your biceps, dye your bangs blonde, that kind of stuff. I can steal some of Kippei's old bleach for you if you want. Do you have a skirt long enough?"

Tomo-chan threw herself into a chair with another screech and flung up her arms into the air as if grappling with an invisible enemy, or perhaps she was imagining pummeling them both to an inch of their lives. Tomo's eyes then grew limpid as the possibilities sank in. Sakuno shared a grin with Ann-chan, and Tomo-chan shot up from her chair.

"You'll need to bring a baton or something with you, so you can hit those idiots if they get out of line. Need to find a small chain you can put at your belt, smuggle it in somehow. And we'll need to change your hairstyle. At the very least, we'll need to braid it differently." Tomo always did love styling Sakuno's hair and her fingers twisted at the air, drawing in phantom plaits.

Ann-chan promised to get plenty of photos of tomorrow's costume as well, which earned dubious glances. On the purely intellectual level Sakuno knew her friend had a plan, but surely she could not be blamed for being a little gun-shy by this point. Ann-chan rolled her eyes at their suspicion.

"Listen, Sa-chan. Niou and Kirihara can maybe, _maybe_ survive being seen with a Gothic Lolita freak on one occasion. But if worse comes to worse and they don't behave tomorrow or the next lesson after that, suppose that someone—say, oh, a guy named Kippei who stole my fashion magazine to ogle the girls in there and owes me some favors—were to post pictures of the two of them hanging around with some unidentifiable Gothic Lolita girl, a delinquent, and—what the third costume going to be?"

"Rabbit girl! But a classy one, a cute one, not those Playboy types." Sakuno replied with no hesitation whatsoever. Tomo-chan groaned at the cliché, but Sakuno thought rabbits were very cute and there was nothing wrong with rabbit-people, or else they wouldn't be everywhere in the magazines.

"And a classy rabbit girl," Ann-chan continued. "I'm fuzzing up the photos from today so that your face and hair can't be recognized, and I'll do the same the next couple of sessions. But the faces of the two dummies are staying as clear as day, and I promise you, Rikkai doesn't take kindly to its star players participating in any freakish hobbies, hobbies like taking cooking lessons from rabbit-girls. Hell, the fact that they're even hanging out with a girl and not punching you or tugging at your panties will make them a laughing stock."

"The other boys at Rikkai, their fanboys especially, will scorn them as unmanly and weak. The girls will hate them for not being gay enough to be making out with each other. The other students will be spitting at them so much, those two'll need to wear raincoats to school." Tomo-chan's smile and voice had gone flat with the same kind of unholy glee as Ann-chan's. Though half the time they acted as if they were going to snatch each other's eyelashes out just as certain stars and planets aligned just so every hundred or thousand years, they easily resonated with each others brains at the most peculiar times.

Confronted by three costumed girls and with plenty of pictures taken during the next two evenings , the boys were on their very best behavior. At the end of the third lesson, their faces had taken on the kind of haunted sheen normally found on the decapitated animal heads in a slaughterhouse, but they both could smoothly cut, chop, measure, and work basic kitchen appliances. They could follow instructions beautifully. This would save the four cooks on the team much precious time.

They both also had seemed more traumatized by the bunny-girl costumes than by what she thought was a rather intimidating trio of (impermanently) tattooed and bludgeon-wielding _sukeban_. Sakuno concluded that a school system that could produce such a ruthless tennis team probably was swimming with _sukeban _and gang violence. She should have known.


	13. Adventure 12: They Make a Dessert

SAKUNO ADVENTURE #12: THEY MAKE A DESSERT AND CALL IT PEACE

Ann-chan smoothed at her rumpled skirt distractedly. "Stop squirming, Sa-chan. You keep bumping my knee. And no, you don't need to say you're sorry. But you don't have to be so jumpy."

"Sorry," Sakuno gurgled. Some madness had persuaded her to force down some breakfast this morning, it had tasted like plaster, and now she was hauling a cement block around inside her. You have to eat something, her team told her, or you'll lose your concentration when you cook. Following this advice left her able to concentrate on how she regretted everything she had done in her life and how she might be upchucking bricks very soon. "I mean, Hyotei's so skillful. Do you think that it's going to be worth it—that we didn't just waste our time? That I didn't waste everyone's time?"

"I dunno. Do you think that if you were fifty feet tall, you could pick up guys in your hands and drop them down your shirt?" Niou had his head propped up against his palm and regarded her nervousness dispassionately even when Akaya-kun kicked him.

"It's all right, Ryuuzaki-chan," Taka-san whispered next to her. "I always got wound up before tournaments too. But you can't think like that. It never helps."

"That's right. Think about how you're going out there to destroy 'em. When you pick up your knives, just pretend that you're gonna go over to the Hyotei table and rip 'em all a new bellybutton! We'll send them home crying to their mammies! We'll—"

It was a shame that the competition didn't have slots of time scheduled for trash talk like American wrestling shows did, because once Tomo-chan had worked herself into a fine lather she would have won the contest for them by default when the other team died from the embarrassment once she had pointed out all of their flaws and promised them horrible deaths in lengthy detail. Sakuno was certain that Akaya-kun and Niou could curse up a storm when it suited them as well. A shame that such a powerful weapon was denied to them!

Their car pulled up to the curb to drop them off at the venue where the battle was to take place. No one was surprised that Atobe had gone down the path of ostentation. A little more than a week ago he had rented out a crystalline auditorium-cum-ballroom in one of the ritziest hotels in all Tokyo, booting out the wedding which had been scheduled for the same day; but, as he was magnanimous, he had his people find another fine venue for the party and remunerate them handsomely for any other costs. For he was an Atobe, a man whose generosity could not be outbid or gainsaid.

Airy glass ceilings with geometrically-shaped panes formed an abstract mosaic over their heads. They drew the eye up towards heaven and light like a Gothic cathedral, but Sakuno felt insect-small rather than elevated.

"He _would_ put us in a hoity-toity place like this," muttered Ann-chan. Everyone else grumbled their assent and Sakuno felt some relief that they all shared discomfort.

"Hyotei'll probably make some flashy entrance. They like to do that." Niou's mouth twisted. "At least we don't waste our time on theatrics. We just spend all our energy kicking ass."

"What if they use the blimp?" Taka-san shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other as if he had an itch.

Oh, please, Sakuno prayed, don't Atobe bring in the blimp. I don't want to have to ride in it. I don't want to have to see the other team come out of it like superstars while we just walk in like chimps. No blimps.

They muddled around the massive hotel, walking through the wrong doors and going up and down flights of stairs before going right back the opposite way again ("So this is what it feels like to be you, Saku-bunny!") until they reached the ballroom where the kitchens were located. Like every place else in the hotel, it was massive in scope, a room normally used for concerts or political rallies; surrounded by stadium seating, one half of the room was dominated by a stage area while the other, level-floored half was used for standing room, extra seating space, or any other purpose. For this occasion, the floor was cordoned off for spectators (admission free of charge, compliments of Atobe once again), with rows and rows of tables heaped with delicacies and drinks. Up on the stage were the two kitchen areas for the teams, a giant screen hanging over them. Sakuno unhappily assumed this was so that the on-stage action could be televised. To the side of the stage was a small booth wired with a microphone, probably for an announcer.

A small army of workers bustled around setting up equipment and chairs, making last minute preparations. A man in sunglasses and an earpiece came up to them, clipboard in hand, and immediately launched into giving them orders, taking them up onto the stage to orient them with their kitchen. Their refrigerator had already been stocked with the ingredients for their recipes—everything had been bought or flown in fresh early in the morning. What they had to do now was change into their cooking uniforms and wait below stairs.

"Below," Sakuno's voice squeaked out on little mouse feet. Taka-san was staring at the ground and she followed his sight's trajectory. The lacquer finish of the stage shone so glossy and bright that she had to cast her eyes around three times to discern the outlines of two wide rectangles cut into the surface between the two kitchens. Perhaps there were more. She didn't want to know.

Ann-chan worked her jaw. "Well, it looks like we're going to be making a grand entrance after all."

A sudden breeze arose, howling and pounding in her ears like the winds in typhoon season when they rattled her bedroom windows, but that was impossible. The sky was clear and there was low wind today. Sakuno contemplated the absurdity for a few seconds. When she couldn't come up with an answer, she turned around to ask her team about it when she found herself sitting on a chair, everyone ringed around her. The screeching breeze sounded each time she breathed. Her chest ached with rawness. Someone shoved a paper bag into her hands. Fingers snapped in front of her face.

"Come on, slowly, breathe in and out. We didn't spend all our time and come all the way here just to have you freak out on us, Sa-chan. Keep breathing." Tomo-chan said.

Once breathing became easier and the world righted itself, Sakuno swore from that moment onwards that she would never give a single blessed yen toward anything related to the performing arts. Stagecraft and showmanship were the designs of the damned. She could hear her aunt's voice responding: _All the great chefs are showmen to some degree._ Well, Sakuno returned, not that many chefs were required to begin their routine by rising up out of the floor like gladiators in a sword and sandals movie.

Two unceremonious hands plucked her into an upright position, Niou's frown millimeters from her face. This treatment did not come as unexpected. Rikkai had never held any sympathy for regrets and desperation. "Ryuuzaki, you better not be thinking how badly you're going to lose. We don't have time for this crap. If you don't get it together, you won't be needing to worry about what Hyotei is going to do to you, but about what _I'm_ going to do to you. There's worse things than having to come out onto a stage like a freaking teen idol band."

"Like what?" she asked out of a detached, morbid curiosity.

"Like me tying firecrackers to your braids."

"Senpai! Leave her alone." Akaya-kun's voice bristled. Sakuno gave a watery smile at his solicitation on her behalf before resuming their walk towards the backstage stairs, cursing her want of confidence. These five earnest souls—four, she amended, knocking Niou off the list—looked to her for guidance and wished to help her, and all she could give them in return were shrunken shoulders and dismay that this whole thing would be a circus. She should have not expected anything less. She had to be more. She called up memories of how her grandmother worked with the tennis team boys, bawling and unafraid; then there was her aunt, slaving away at an art that lasted mere hours until it vanished; Ryoma-kun and Akaya-kun, admirable in their arrogance. The hospital room. The plugs in her mother's nose over a smile.

Uncertainty was the enemy. It filled her head with fuzzying doubts that sent the world spinning into incoherence. Several failed English and math quizzes bore witness to this. She forgot how to conjugate verbs properly, formulas she had reviewed and memorized vanished. But now she quickly thought back to the recipes she had slogged over the past two weeks and found that the measurements and steps poured out freely.

She remembered the recipes!

Her shoulders shivered again, making her team cast wary glances. She just smiled at them and said she was feeling excited. They grinned back at her, and her chin and shoulders bucked up. The fear and chagrin remained deep inside, deep enough to push back until she could collapse after all was said and done and have herself a nice little mental episode.

Maybe I can't be like them, she thought, but I'm going to have to fake it for a while. I can do that. I just hope that Grandma will get me a nice room where the padded walls are stuffed with goose feathers after this.

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Neither team saw hide or hair of the other while waiting below the stage. In the interest of drama—and, because reputation preceded Tomo-chan and Rikkai, of preventing any brawls—each kitchen crew's entrance had been staggered. Sakuno did not know if there was any advantage to going first or last, but she was thankful that her team would be the first to mount the ridiculous lift and go onstage just so that it cut down on waiting. She found it difficult to keep on reciting the recipes to herself when she had no equipment to work with. Everyone else was acting also quite punchy. If she and Taka-san hadn't forced Niou to empty his pockets and anywhere else in his clothes where mischief could be concealed, they would probably be in up to their ears in a hell-broth of chaos by now. He did not do well with boredom.

Above them, audible through the layers of wood, plaster, and wiring, Atobe was making some kind of electrically dignified entrance. He addressed the crowd briefly, thanking them for their interest in this mighty culinary battle. There were complimentary AtobeCorp pens and key chains for everyone at the door. Everyone was free to gorge themselves on the snacks provided. The lucky spectators randomly chosen to taste and judge the food would get AtobeCorp earphones and a t-shirt.

Another voice began to speak, animated and smooth like butter, probably a professional event announcer. The machine beneath their feet hissed as it began a stately ascent into the lights. As her sous-chef, Taka-san had settled in beside her; his poor hand must have turned purple once they emerged, but he did not say a thing. She smiled out into the nothingness in front of her, bowing and nodding to people she could not see. Akaya-kun was blowing kisses. The announcer continued the introductions as she and the others made their way to their kitchen, counters and stove tops gleaming with a Julia Child's ransom in pots and pans.

The nothingness around her dimmed beyond nothing in the utter awe she felt at this treasure trove. Sakuno worshiped a cast-iron skillet's handle with the stroke of her hand. She found the brand name inscribed on the bottom and moaned. "The Gojira Company's Invincible-Nonstick Anodized-Aluminum God-Forged Kitchen Mach III series. The Roll's Royce of cookware. Taka-san, are we in heaven?"

"It's so beautiful," crooned Taka-san, floating in thrall towards the cutlery set.

"Oh, I'm not worthy! It's such an honor to just touch them." The shining glare overwhelmed her and Sakuno wiped away the tears with the heel of her hand. "Please allow this lowly one the opportunity to wield you, kitchenware-sama. This is the greatest day of my life."

"Stop talking to pans!" Kirihara sniped. "I mean, I love my tennis racquet but you don't see me trying to make out with it."

Ann-chan said that that might be the reason why he kept on losing all his most important matches. Tomo-chan snickered. Things would have tailspinned from there into a hellish state of affairs as far as team solidarity was concerned except for the fact that Taka-san had found the Nesmuk knife set. Four hundred layers of nickel, iron and steel quivered for some seconds in hand before being held steadily.

"I AM BECOME ALL THAT IS MAN," he proclaimed. "A MILLION FIERY SUNS ARE BURNING IN ME! BURNING RED! WHAT FOODSTUFF WILL HAVE THE HONOR OF FIRST TASTING THIS BLADE'S RAZOR-STEELY KISS? THE POWER FLOWS THROUGH ME. THIS MIGHTY KNIFE AND I ARE ONE!"

Wholesale murder sprees had sprung from lesser men. Discipline stayed Taka-san from waving the knife around blindly like he had once wielded his old tennis racquets, but Sakuno saw the artist's fever in his eyes for what it was. If he did not have anything to chop soon, he'd be whacking away at the empty cutting board. Carefully, Sakuno approached him from the opposite side of the hand that held the knife and grasped his arm. "Put it down, Taka-san. It's not time yet."

"THE KNIFE. THE POWER."

"You'll get your chance," she soothed. She nodded toward Ann-chan, who swooped in to take the knife and put it back in its rack.

"Why hasn't he been arrested yet," Niou asked. "I always thought you were the nutjob, Aka-chan, but this guy tops you."

Sakuno hissed out her frustration at the prospect of needing to stave off another conflict in her team after just having managed to coax Taka-san away from the brink, but Niou's jibe received not a single retort or bristling sneer. Akaya-kun was transfixed on the commentators' booth. The rest of them had not been listening, but apparently a raffle of some sort was going on. Ticket numbers were being read off for the chance to be a part of the taste-testing panels that would sample the teams' meals, compare them, and then rate them. Sakuno watched the proceedings intently along with the others, their eyes sharpened against any double-dealing, but it seemed to be a truly randomized lottery. She recognized no one from Seigaku or Hyotei or any other school as they came up to the judge's table in front of the stage.

Whoever held the ticket that had the last number to be called out would be double-blessed, the announcer assured the audience, because he or she not only would get to sample the food first out of all the panel members, but they would also have a chance to sit at the commentary booth and get a prime view of the action, as well as a gift certificate to the store of their choice. The numbers echoed over the sound systems. Just a second later, a blurred mop of red hair and a jungle-print tank top bounced through the crowd towards the stage.

"Yoshaa!I won! I won!"

Sakuno found herself suspended between the pleasure at seeing a truly friendly face and the dread of the mortification that she was certain would come from this development. The announcer tilted the microphone towards the lucky winner to ask his name and where he came from; the microphone was ripped out the announcer's hand as his gust took a seat in the booth.

"My name's Touyama Kintarou, but you can call me Kin-chan! I came all the way here from the Kansai region in search of good food and tennis. I'm all set for the food because Sakuno-chan is here and she's the best cook. Keep on making me onigiri and mochi and other stuff, Saku-chan!" He kissed his pointer and middle fingers and blew it out in her direction. "I also know there's gonna be good tennis afterward because if Sakuno-chan's here, then Koshimae can't be far behind. Koshimaaaaaae! Koshimae! Where are you? Give me a sign! I know you're out there!"

The announcer, smile straining, attempted to wrest the microphone away with courtesy and aplomb. "Thank you, thank you Touyama-kun, now please take your seat here, the contest will begin soon and I need to—"

"Wait. So, it's just going to be you talking all the way up here while Sakuno-chan and whoever these other people are make delicious food?"

"I am very knowledgeable about cooking, Touyama-kun. I've studied many cuisines and reported on many competitions like this. The audience will need me to explain what is going on as the teams cook so they can understand the nuances and subtleties-"

"Boresville! I think I should get my own microphone. I have lots to say, too, and I love to eat food as much as you do, maybe even more." The announcer made another desperate grab for the microphone, but Kintarou made a deft dodge and spun towards the crowd. "Hey, everyone! Who here thinks that I should be able to talk about what's going on too? You'll be bored to death if I'm not around. My teammates all say that I'm cheekier than a baboon's butt, so that's gotta count for something. Come on, what do you all say?"

"Don't do it," Sakuno whispered.

"Do it!" hooted the crowd, words muddied through laughter. "Give him a mic!"

In all candor, Sakuno did feel mortified on her own behalf; but she also cringed in anticipation for Kintarou-kun himself. His sense of humor and maniac ways did not bother her too much—unless in _certain circumstances_ where she needed to keep face and concentrate—and she dearly hoped that this crowd full of gourmands and elite Tokyo types would not treat him like some kind of dancing monkey or laugh at him because they thought him stupid.

"Well," Tomo-chan said beside her, chin set grimly, "this is either going to make us or break us. That weirdo likes your cooking so much, there's no way he won't shill you. The crowd's gonna love it or really hate it."

Sakuno clenched fists desperate to comb at her braids, kept them steady, and struggled to keep every desire that was not for victory at bay. She could not think about future embarrassment or that other friends may be out in the crowd, watching and judging. "That means we'll just have to trust in the food to speak for itself. Do you think any of our friends are out there?"

"Absolutely. I'm sure they'll be cheering for you."

"My brother's team is out there for sure, too. He said they'd come. Rudolph's and Yamabuki too," said Ann.

"Hyotei as well?"

"Sakuno, what do you think?"

"Darn."

Everyone was settling down around them. Kintarou was getting his microphone and the announcer had only a few more words for the crowd. The clocks above each kitchen were flashing. Three minutes until it began, and then only sixty minutes to make a meal. Sakuno gathered her team around her. She searched for inspirational words, but how could she fire them up about chopping techniques and sauces in so short a time?

"Follow the recipes, come to me or Taka-san if there are any problems, and we'll be fine. You all know what you need to do. Always keep working or doing something; we don't have any time to waste. And don't over-salt anything."

"I can hock up better soup than what they could come up with." Tomo-chan balled up her fists, unable to contain her contempt. Over in their corner Niou and Akaya-kun milled about and glanced at each other. Niou said something about that kind of pep talk being flat and colorless compared to their own buchou and fukubuchou's speeches—presumably because there were no threats of bodily harm or a lifetime of therapy included.

"I squirt out better soup once _every month," _Tomo-chan grated past the sound of her grinding teeth, working her jaw, and Sakuno had never been so thankful that Kintarou finally had gotten his microphone in place, the main unit tacked to his chest like a boutonniere.

"I don't know why you wacky easterners are solving a fight between schools with food rather than tennis, but it's a delicious solution, so I'm all for it! If everybody ended fights by cooking, there'd be no wars! The way I see it, if we just sent lots of big boxes of tonkatsu and onigiri to the Middle East, we'd be making some progress." Kintarou expounded upon this philosophy for about thirty more seconds, the other announcer growing green around the mouth from despair.

A loud electronic chime sounded over the din and the clocks lit up with blazing red numbers. Every other noise began to subside except the blood in her ears and the breath in her nose. Sakuno forced her spine not to hunch and nodded to her team.

"All contestants take your positions in your kitchens," the commentator announced. He was scooting in his chair as far away from Kintarou as staged amiability allowed. "Take your positions. The contest will be starting in one minute."

PoT PoT PoT PoT PoT

Because she had long labored over the recipes, years later Sakuno could tell anyone who asked exactly what ingredients went into each dish and how they were prepared. However, she could not for the life of her remember the actual cooking process very well. Everything swam in a soup of hazy lighting and noise, blurred from working in such haste, that she could not really form a coherent whole out of the experience. Perhaps, in desperation borne of stress and the sheer need to not falter or break down in this, her greatest endeavor, her psyche had formed a crevasse where it could dump and bury all the unwanted sensory effluvia of the outside world.

She had to complete the work. That was all.

Only the color commentators' pronouncements managed to worm their way slightly into her consciousness; this was due in part because the comments might convey clues as to her team's performance. If they noticed anything amiss she would have to become singularly aware of the mistake and correct it. Once they had said their piece on her team, however, they faded back into white noise.

"Let us go over to the Ryuuzaki kitchen and see what they're creating for the appetizer," chimed the voice of the first announcer. "It looks like—ah, yes, it appears that Ryuuzaki-san is frying up small batches of tempura batter. It certainly seems to have a good texture while it's cooking. Getting tempura batter to be light and not overly heavy can be a challenge. The trick to light, airy tempura is—"

"But why didn't she dip anything in the batter? You can't eat just the batter. That's just silly. It's like eating onigiri and then finding out there's no filling. That happened to me, once and I felt like the emptiness in that onigiri matched the one in my soul! Don't do it, Sakuno-chan!" Kintarou wailed his horror and confusion. He would soon see how off the mark he was, so she let his words pass without any consternation.

"Oh, see what she's doing now," the other announcer continued, not looking at his boothmate. "She's folding the circles of tempura into taco shells. Her sous-chef Takashi-san has just finished slicing up some monkfish liver and is giving the pieces to her. She's stuffing the shells with the liver and a few pieces of red lettuce . . .and it looks like Tachibana-san has whipped up a lovely light green chile-cream sauce. She probably won't put the sauce onto the food until the last minute. I've been told that Ryuuzaki-san enjoys art classes in school. Plating should be a strong point for her."

"I'd use the cream to make little faces on my tacos. Or maybe I'd have one frowning or crying, like it was saying, 'Don't eat me!'"

"Indeed, Touyama-kun. Now, it appears Hyotei is making a pate to serve along with—"

Niou muttered over the soup pot, pinching in seasonings with deft fingers. Once she had plated the last monkfish taco she swept over beside him, holding a cutting board with finely slivered cross sections of jalapeno peppers that Akaya-kun had pressed into her hand like a baton when she passed. She and Niou checked on the state of the _akadashi_ miso stock.

"And back to the Ryuuzaki team, now we see them working on the second course, the soup dish. Keeping with their fusion theme, it appears that Ryuuzaki and staff are combining a traditional miso soup with Southwestern American ingredients. I'd say that use of jalapenos can be risky, as each individual pepper can contain different levels of capsaicin, and this may lead the soup to being too spicy."

"I once ate a whole spoonful of really hot wasabi. A BIG spoonful! I ran for six miles straight, it hurt so much. Shiraishi-buchou sometimes slips some into my bento to help me build my leg strength. He says I run like a cracked-out bat after I eat it."

"Fascinating, Touyama-kun. And yes, now Ryuuzaki and her _potager_ are adding in some freshly-roasted corn kernels to the soup, and some mushrooms as well. We'll have to see if the tasting judges think this gambit pays off. On the Hyotei side, it seems they're making some kind of deconstructed bouillabaisse—"

Ann-chan and Tomo-chan were fussing like demons over a stewing pot of _frijoles negros_ which had been soaked overnight until tender and plump and glistening like obsidian. The beans now were boiling in a fish broth; the moment Niou had completed dicing the peeled and seeded papaya fruit and an onion (a powerful one that had tears coursing down his cheeks like his main gunpowder supplier had gone bust), Sakuno sent Akaya-kun to gently tip them into the pot with the beans.

"I would like to point out to the audience how Ryuuzaki-san is creating a mixture of sweet and savory for this next course which, if I'm not mistaken, is going to be the filling for quesadillas of some type—"

"I thought a quesadilla was some sort of plated rodent that curled up into a ball and gave you leprosy if you touched it."

Sakuno walked a touch stiffly as she did her best no to coil around the tumor of despair burgeoning inside her but rather relax around it. If she were anywhere else in the crowd she would probably have found Kintarou's unorthodox commentary amusing, but all it did for her at this moment was make her want to blow her brains out.

"_YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ARMADILLOS, YOU MORON,"_ Taka-san informed from his chopping block, the wondrous Nesmuk slicing through a pile of washed fresh scallops. The crowd's laughter triggered a sympathetic reaction of spiky heat up behind her ears and neck . It took Sakuno two deep breaths to catch herself and remember that, being a natural Kansai showman, Kintarou-kun loved laughter for its own sake. Clowning around brought him no shame or embarrassment, just the thrill caused by amusing others. He would probably play all his matches naked if he could. Lips pursed in unfazed consideration, Kintarou-kun then proceeded to account for his mistake by relating how the two words were etymologically related because they both had a 'diy' sound.

Her ill-placed embarrassment on his behalf made her attention lapse. She had poured oil into a skillet before searing the scallops; because she had poured too much and let the oil heat up too quickly, the scallops sputtered and hissed. Three large droplets of oil spattered onto the back of her third and fourth finger and scalded the webbing between them. She jammed her hand up against her stomach. Aunt Natsuko would be having guppies if she could see her now. Aunt Natsuko always said that unless they worked with the restaurant kitchen version of the Keystone Kops, whoever they were, every single scar, burn, and cut that a chef earned was their own damn fault.

"It's all right, it's all right. Just get me a wet cloth, Akaya-kun, and get right over there to cook the scallops, Tomo-chan! They can't overcook or they'll become rubbery. Hurry!" Kirihara came hovering back with the wet towel. He ground his teeth, rocking on the balls of his feet in a weird dance borne of angered anxiety that she'd seen wounded animals do on nature shows. He rolled his eyes towards the booth.

"Wait'll I get out of here after this is done. I'll grind their faces into putty."

"Now don't _you_ start freaking out on me. If I'm not allowed to be nervous, you can't throw any tantrums."

"I don't throw any damn tantrums! I've broken guys' bones and sent guys like Mr. Hyde over there to the dentist. I can take that Kansai hick."

"Leave Kintarou-kun alone. You're not beating anyone up today." She remembered something that her grandmother always did when she was trying to get a jittery player to focus their nerves: Grandma liked to put one hand high on her player's shoulder, near the slope of the neck. That way she could, as the situation warranted, give either an encouraging squeeze or pat on the shoulder or snap up her hand up to the victim's earlobe and crush the shakes out of them. Sakuno was so keyed up that she felt like she could hand out some pinching, though she'd probably regret it later. She put her aching hand on the special spot, maintaining eye contact. "Calm down, Akaya-kun, and get back to work. We've wasted too much time as it is."

"—And it looks like Ryuuzaki-san is conferring with Kirihara-san about the incident. Fortunately, she seems to be uninjured—"

"No, Sakuno-chan! Get away from him! What about Koshimae's honor and feelings? Koshimae, stop them! You can't let this happen! Rikkai sucks and they hardly go to Nationals now, I'll have nobody else to make me onigiri if I don't see her at any more tournaments! Koshimaaaaaae!" Kintarou was running laps around the booth in his distress.

Ann-chan snorted from her station as she finished cooking the scallops, chopping them up quickly before putting them into the papaya mixture. "You know what? It'd just be our luck that for once Echizen decided to give you some support and is out there in the crowd somewhere, listening to all this. Bet you one hundred yen that he's eating his hat out of shame right now."

"IF I LET KIRIHARA STEAL AWAY ONE OF MY POTENTIAL GIRLFRIENDS, I TOO WOULD BE DEEPLY ASHAMED," Taka-san concurred. There was nothing left to slice or chop and he still had the wondrous knife in his hand, but nobody was stupid enough to get closer and ask him to put it down.

"Do you _really_ think that Ryoma-kun and the others are out there?" Sakuno posed again to Tomo-chan over a pair of freshly seasoned and oiled skillets. They crackled as she placed golden corn tortillas onto them, ready to ladle out the filling on top of each disc and top it with a second tortilla. Tomo-chan's face was a dry as the masa that made those tortillas.

"Dur-hey."

"Of course," Sakuno sighed. It had to be worse for Ryoma-kun, came the cold consolation. No doubt Momo and Eiji-sempai were ragging on him mercilessly right now, and she could not fathom for what devious ends Fuji-senpai would twist Kintarou's outbursts, no matter how silly or unsubstantiated they were. She, at least, had her own little kitchen kingdom right here, where she could not shame herself any further. Every one of them in this kitchen knew how the stakes were shared in a doubles match; tripling that number only made it triply as easy to share in both victory and infamy. The strengths of one bolstered everybody else, but the same principle applied to their faults and weaknesses.

If that was the case, then they all had a bit of the schizophrenic, psychotic, sociopathic, foul-mouthed tomboy slut labels smearing them, edges of one bleeding into the other. Poor Ann-chan!, Sakuno thought. Ann-chan had had the best reputation of them all, but now she'd gone and ruined it by letting her be a part of this.

"Oh, Ann-chan, I'm so sorry for everything. Everybody's seeing you here and will think you're as bad as the rest of us," Sakuno babbled, her hands grabbing at the bags of flour and sugar in their supply cupboard.

"Okay," grunted Ann-chan, in a dull, nonplussed way, one eyebrow crooked. Tachibana Kippei must get that look often.

"Speak for yourself, Sakuno. I _earned_ all my cred! At least I'm not a slut who's not even a real slut," snapped Tomo-chan.

"ME NEITHER."

"Osakada's right. You're a faux slut. People with undeserved reputations are the worst. You don't even put out." That was Niou. She had no idea why he would bother joining in on this conversation other than the fact that he was, in unkindly words uttered often by her aunt when discussing pushy customers, an utter jackhole, one who also happened to be accustomed to team banter. That was an unfortunate combination.

Kirihara's wandering elbows landed in various soft places on Tomo and Niou's bodies in suspicious displays of abrupt clumsiness that seemed familiar. "Leave her alone, senpai. She's not the one who hacked the girls _and _boys soccer websites and put up photos of his butt over all of the team pictures. Everyone's seen your ass—no one's seen hers! You're the real skank here!"

"At least now people know what they're gonna get when they date me, Aka-chan. You, you're never gonna know the touch of a woman if you don't show some of the merchandise once in a while."

"Everyone! Please! Let's all agree that Niou is the only _real_ slut here and cut the chatter, please." Sakuno said this in all sternness. She noticed with dull satisfaction that while the skewed lipped-glances and taunts were bandied about, no one missed a single beat in the work. Not one person let their motion cease. Dishes were carted away and cleaned, ingredients passed hands, and the food was watched and handled with tight precision. If the only had two more members—perhaps Ryoma-kun and Kintarou-kun maybe Fuji-senpai—they'd be the perfect mixed tennis team from hell.

Totally without context, the announcers seemed confounded by the manifest hostility; they probably would have been more confounded if they did have context. "It seems that some disagreement has come up in the Ryuuzaki team kitchen. And if I didn't know any better, folks, it looked like Kirihara-san and Niou-san were about to go at each other there for a second. Keep in mind that this is the first time this team has worked together—I wish I had more information, but when your announcer here tried to get information from people at Seishun or Rikkai about how Ryuuzaki formed the team, I was threatened at Rikkai by a madman with a bokuto and I somehow got trapped in a janitor's closet at Seishun."

"Aw, Koshimae! I know that had to have been you! He's always hated snoops, announcer-san."

"_Regardless, _it appears that the final dessert dish is being prepared in both kitchens while the other dishes are being cooked and plated. The Ryuuzaki team is making _boca negra_ cakes with a green-tea based filling and dusted with Japanese hazelnuts. We'll see how they execute this fusion-"

Many minutes passed. More hands were freed up as the first dishes finished cooking and were plated. They were on the last steps, but these were perhaps the most perilous. Aunt Natsuko could only draw lollipop stick-people and never made an arts and crafts project that was more than quarter-assed, as she'd put it, and so had always hated excessively fancy plating. The food always ended up the same in the end, she said, and the taste was the only thing that really mattered. She had warned Sakuno expressly against trying to be cute and making little pictures of rabbits or birds with her sauces and smiley faces from the components of the dish. Make everything neat, don't let different parts touch, play opposites off each other, keep sauces and garnish designs minimalist and/or abstract; that served anyone well enough. The only exceptions were the desserts, and Auntie had nothing but hatred for anyone who wanted their cake shaped like a crocodile or a butt with a syringe in it (doctors' office parties were the absolute worst; she'd stopped catering them and made Sakuno promise never to ever bake for them). Overdoing the plating while playing at Picasso had tripped up many an otherwise good chef.

Still, Sakuno abhorred the thought of bland elegance on her plate. If she couldn't try at doing what she thought would be a good style, one that would be her own one day, then there was no point. Over the past week she had done some quick sketches on what each plate should look like, trying to envision how the shapes and colors of the food would look when fully cooked. She had been afraid at first, daunted by her aunt's ranting, but relief had come when she realized that she'd encountered many of the basic principals already in her elective Chinese art class. The great masters had been guided by Yin and Yang; for a branch of flowers had at least one wilted bloom, ink and blank white space alternated on the scrolls, strong strokes gave way to soft. The dishes became much easier to conceptualize after that.

While putting in her order for the ingredients to make the food, Sakuno had also been asked to select the dinnerware on which the dishes would be presented to the judges. As with the food, price had been no object and quality was all; Atobe had offered her the pick of an entire catalog of the finest china. Most chefs used white dishes. This was all well and good, but nothing in that color had called to her. She instead chose a jet-black dishware set with a lacquer glaze. Her food would be colorful, so she would serve it upon the absence of color. Her food would be mostly round in shape, so the bowls and plates needed to be be square. Simplicity itself.

"There are only two minutes left until the final bell, and both teams are making their finishing touches on the dishes as they're plated," said the announcer. He had handed Kintarou a computer tablet that had cartoons currently playing on the screen, which had brought the other line of commentary screeching to a halt (much to the audience's disappointment ). "On the Ryuuzaki team, Ryuuzaki is now pouring the chile-cream sauce on top of the tempura tacos. Ah, what dashing strokes! What clean lines, not a drop splattered out of place! She's drawing an undulating line across the center of the taco shells...now she is placing dots of the sauce on either side of the taco on the plate, one row aligning with the crests of the waves and other side aligning with the troughs! Now she is lading out the soup, and-oh! What a surprise! She's putting a single tiger prawn in the center of each bowl! And she's making sure the amount of each vegetable is equally distributed in each bowl. She's pushing the corn in one around, taking out a mushroom from another—an interesting mix of color and texture." He peered at Kintarou, smile tentative. "Wouldn't you say, Touyama-kun?"

"_Boring." _Kintarou-kun yawned and waved his hand. He was switching cartoons. The announcer looked the happiest he had ever been throughout the past hour.

"And here come the papaya and scallop quesadillas, already cut into wedges for easy eating. Ryuuzaki's putting a sprig of cilantro in the center of each quesadilla along with dabs of mango sauce all along the outer edges. Their swooping shape looks like flames to me—perhaps she is making miniature suns out of them?" He looked towards his companion, who shrugged without a word, and beamed back at the audience.

"Finally, dear audience, the Ryuuzaki kitchen is plating their dessert, the _boca negra_ cakes, hot from the oven. They are perfectly centered in their plates and now the team is dusting them with green tea powder. A small dollop of whipped cream to the side of each one—and that's it! They're done!"

The last plates were whisked away, and with them the last drops of her adrenaline high. Sakuno suddenly felt that there was nothing so depressing as not being able to savor your work. The plates would go to the judging table, the teams would be forced back underground—in order to let the judges speak freely to each other without having to hold back from hurting the cooks' feelings, the rules had decreed—while the diners ate and wrote down their verdicts, discussing points of relevance amongst themselves. Disappointment sat uneasy on her shoulders. She wouldn't even get to see Kintarou-kun's face as he gobbled everything down. Watching other partake of the meal was half the fun.

Proper chefs always cleaned their areas one last time after the meal. Six people made short work of the clutter and splatters. Taka-san looked like his favorite pet had died when he at last had to relinquish the wondrous Nesmuk knife. Everyone else breezed about, still buzzed on the action.

"Smile, say good work, congratulate us. You're the captain. We just busted our asses for you," Tomo-chan whispered as they all marched off to their holding place. Sakuno plastered on a smile. She had forgotten herself; there were a last few miles had to be run yet, though she had to run them on fumes. The others had done so much for her. Even so—

"How come nobody ever tells Tezuka-buchou to be nice to the team or smile? He usually just grunts at them," she mumbled back.

"Not after a big win, he doesn't. And Tezuka-buchou was born into a family that doesn't carry genes for smiling or tear ducts. _You_ don't have an excuse."

Unable to argue against that proof, Sakuno went over and hugged her girlfriends and Taka-san before leaving the stage. Akaya-kun did not so much hug her as carry her, stuffed-bear style, in the crook of his arm down the stairs. Niou got a nod of recognition.

"Well done, everyone. I'm sure we won this," she told them, striving to put all of her sincerity and passion into the pronouncement. She focused on making the words repeat in her head as she said them aloud so that way they would have double the conviction.

Kirihara made shadow-punches at the wall and Niou rocked back on the balls of his feet; it must have been a Rikkai thing to savor the prospect of victory when their post-match energy hadn't subsided. "We kicked their caviar-snorting asses," Akaya-kun murmured with each punch. Everyone else was slouched in a chair or against the wall, affecting acceptance that whatever happened would happen, that they had let strangers and Touyama Kintarou take the wheel. They were no longer driving this bus. It was a hard thing to be cool about.

Simply trying not to think about what was going on up there did no good, so Sakuno poked her head outside the room. She bummed off a few magazines from a stagehand, copies of _Sumo Monthly _and _Farming Digest. _Even Taka-san received her offerings with a dry look, but Sakuno preferred that to the burning, restless glances. The sighs, fidgets, and thousand-mile stares had bugged her with their very aimlessness, as if she had been at fault for not providing complete assurance of victory.

Some minutes later the team was called back up again into the floodlights. The last plates on the judges' table were being cleared away, the faces of the judges themselves inscrutable to her—she had never been the best at reading poker faces. It was probably another deficiency in her critical faculties, but at least this time around she was reassured when she looked over at Tomo-chan and received a shake of the head. Tomo-chan could not read them, so these judges were indeed good at hiding their thoughts.

"I gave you full points, Sakuno-chan!" Kintarou gave a double thumbs-up.

"You gave the other team full points too, didn't you?" snapped Tomo-chan. Kintarou returned a helpless shrug. He had a sweetness of nature that Sakuno prized for its rarity, but she'd be damned if it didn't make him uncritical when it was least called for.

Unlike some of the cooking competition shows on television, for this one they had come up with a more merciful approach for the judging and scoring. The judges scored the dishes on a rubric of specific criteria (e.g., taste, presentation, texture, compatibility of the foods with the stated overall theme of the meal, etc.) on a scale of zero to five, five being the best rating. The judges were not to verbally discuss their opinions amongst each other, but share their explanations as to why they scored each dish they way the did in writing. Certain representative comments would be read aloud by the announcer as the numbers appeared on the screen, but the teams would not have to stand directly in front of the audience while the judges reamed or gushed at them. Sakuno had been adamant about that point; she hated that kind of judging. Atobe had balked at that, saying it was less entertaining and accusing her of having the same lack of appreciation for the theatrical as Tezuka-buchou, but she wasn't here for theatrics.

The tingles shooting through the bones in her face meant that her skin was flushed or pale as a worm. The numbers were coming up.

Team Ryuuzaki's scores were: 4 for Flavor, 4.5 for Presentation, 3.5 for Texture, 4 for Theme, 3.5 for Innovation, and 3.5 for Skill.

Team Hyotei's scores ran as follows: 4 for Flavor, 4 for Presentation, 4 for Texture, 4 for Theme, 3 for Innovation, and 4 for Skill.

Sakuno needed three tries, whispering each number with twitches of her fingers, to come up with the correct sums. Personally she saw no shame in an honest tie score, that incomprehensible state of being with no winners or losers, but her teammates had philosophical differences in that regard.

"Ya rotten bastards, ya! You can't end this is in a f—_damn_ tie! " Akaya-kun clawed at the hem of his collar; one good yank and he might have shredded it off and gone storming around half-naked, which surely would have cost them a point from their presentation score. The others had their emotions banked but were no less furious, save Taka-san, who was alternating from gnashing his teeth to wailing "We're all losers! Losers!"

Ah, but the people running this show were cunning. They let the teams and the crowd stew for a few seconds longer, and when the anger and astonishment had reached their perfect pitch, simmering hot but not quite boiling, the announcer said:

"Both of these teams have displayed such skill today, ladies and gentlemen! Both had strengths and weaknesses to their meals that have managed to balance each other out perfectly. But don't worry. In case of such an event, we have devised a secret tie-breaker category that will be added to the individual scores. But first, let's view some of the comments made by the judges to see why they scored the way they did—"

"Bullshit, bullshit, _bullshit_," seethed Niou, "this is total bullshit. We couldn't have screwed up so badly."

It was because they had gone with a simpler fusion of cuisines while Hyotei had tackled the more demanding challenge of pure French food that they had been docked points on skill she was certain, and the judges' comments confirmed her hypothesis. She felt a dull ache of shame at that flaw being thrown into her face, but Sakuno felt it a fair judgment. But she couldn't stand how Taka-san must be feeling. He had tried his best for her and she hadn't allowed him to fully play to his strengths—the scallops! It had to have to been the scallops. They were easy to botch. They must have been seared improperly, with too much crunch on the outside and too rubbery in the center. Why scallops? She should have used a fish, something Taka-san could have gone to town on. Everything seemed so obviously wrong now, when it was far too late, and Taka-san was now hunching his side to the left as if in pain. She knew that tell. She had seen it on that night with the fussy old customer who had shamed Taka-san so that he had come groping through the kitchen door in an old man's shuffle. He was embarrassed beyond words.

Because everyone else had taken the plunge along with her, Sakuno saw the impotence of premature despair on faces not her own and was amazed that other people could stand her when she got like that. How often had she herself done this, wailing for the loss of the moon when it might only be hidden behind a cloud? Was this how _hikkomori_ were born? There was still hope. "We're not done yet. We can still win the tiebreaker."

"It'll be a sucky win," said Tomo-chan, the Rikkai boys nodding. Ann-chan and Taka-san had blank faces that did not trust to any hope.

"Still a win."

It was very hard for her to convince them to keep their spirits up while the announcer was talking about the virtues of a well-oiled kitchen staff and _coherency _and EFFICIENCY and HARMONY. Arguments during meal production slowed down the machinery of the kitchen, created delays and interfered with the food quality; nor did conflict between cooks on how to best prepare the food right in the middle of work contribute in any constructive way. . .

Sakuno felt her eyes bulging, choked as she was by dread, and she leveled an accusing stare at her sorely unprofessional and big-mouthed teammates. They all looked like they would be sick over themselves.

"Tell Sanada," whispered Ann-chan, "you tell him that he'll be seeing his precious teammates in Hell."

The tie-breaker point was awarded to Hyotei. The knowledge that the blow was coming did nothing to make it softer to bear.

The crowd cheered, the announcer congratulated the winners, and it was all over. Her life was over. She was going to keep her braids come hell or high water, but what she'd have to endure, how much more bullying she'd have to take for the next three years until she could make a new start somewhere—it stretched out before her. She wasn't going to make it. She might as well be going to prison; she _wished _she were going to prison, so that she did not have to see her teammate's faces for a second longer.

It was too bad she couldn't go to prison for being a loser.

"Will the head chefs of each team please step out to center stage and shake hands," said the announcer.

It was hard going, walking into the blinding lights already stunned and eyes dry as sand, but she somehow managed to play at being a good sport. She'd have to leave the cursing and tantrums to Tomo-chan and the others. She could not smile at the other head chef, who at least seemed like an up-and-coming future professional and did not gloat or smirk at her, but she could return the courtesy of a handshake.

"Now our eminent host Atobe-sama would like to congratulate the teams."

'He can congratulate my fanny,' Sakuno thought, turning around to march away. No doubt a crowd of Hyotei fanatics were going to be waiting for her ready to avenge the slight, and she found she did not mind being rent limb from limb as long as she could finally leave here. She did not get very far. The ending ceremony had been planned out so that Atobe and an entourage of assistants bearing flowers and other prizes were waiting out just offstage. One of the entourage seized her by the shoulder as they passed by, bringing her back to the center. Atobe shook the hand of his school's chef before turning a stormy smile promising retribution upon her.

"Leaving so soon, Ryuuzaki-san? Don't be so shy. It was a fine competition, and you had many supporters come today. Is there anything you'd like to say?" he asked her over his microphone, one hand out to shake hers. He pointed then mic towards her. She said the only thing that came to mind.

"You can do anything else to me," she told him, "but I'm not letting you cut my hair."

To her shame, her voice quavered with tears. She must have looked utterly pathetic and ruined, like a dog twitching in the middle of a street, for all her posturing because the haughty reproach dissolved from Atobe's eyes as she met them.

"You did well. It was almost as exciting to watch as one of Ore-sama's own matches at the end. It was a mighty effort. You have talent."

"Thank you."

He lowered the microphone and spoke softly.

"Ore-sama apologizes for all the trouble you have gone through. Ore-sama promises that he will make amends. Hyotei will not go too hard on you. Ore-sama will see to that."

The words spilled like honey into her ears, taking seconds to reach her eardrum and register in her brain. Sakuno smiled widely, a very happy smile. She could not take it off her face; her blazing cheeks were stuffed to the brim with emotion; tears dripped down her cheeks. There was no air to breathe. All she did was shake her head at him, tears still falling.

Finally she began to laugh so hard that her face grew purple and her legs wobbled like rubber bands. She kept on laughing. Atobe started to shuffle back but she still had his hand clasped in hers and the tendons in her hands nearly popped from under the skin from clutching it.

She wheezed out between giggles: "All I ever wanted. . ." but could not say more. It was useless. Atobe finally broke free of her grip and stepped back, obviously trying to recover his wits and salvage the fiasco, when an awful miracle happened.

Years into the future, not a single person who was there could remember who had struck the first blow or why they had done it. Niou swore on Yagyuu's grandfather's grave that he did _not_ throw that sample plate of barely-cooled cherries jubilee at Atobe's head, but he lied as naturally as he breathed; on the other hand, nobody could discount the possibility that someone from Hyotei or even just a random excitable person in the crowd threw it. If Sakuno had been the intended target, the attempt was a total bust. The warm cherries and ice-cream splattered against Atobe's head, geysering up like he was Caesar on the floor of the Senate meeting. As happens in such cases, there was the briefest moment of total silence and stillness.

A shrill cry. "Someone's _besmirched_ Atobe-sama!"

Things rapidly escalated from there. Sakuno's legs had finally given out on her and the fit of madness had passed, so she was desperately gasping for breath while a ballroom mostly filled with teenagers began to put a good deal of African football riots to shame. Once she finally realized that people were rushing the stage and falling upon the nearest foe-seeming person they found, she felt a strategic retreat was called for.

It really was something, Sakuno observed, crawling along on her knees and elbows, that even in a fracas the boys and girls were so accustomed to being segregated in school and public baths that they only picked a fight with their own gender. Tomo-chan was shoving a Yamabuki girl's head under a kitchen sink faucet which had been turned to full blast. Somewhere she heard Ann-chan shriek, followed by the sharp meat-smacking sound of several slaps against a face. Another couple of girls had wrangled oil into each others hair and were wrestling in a small pool of it. Strangely enough, not a single boy seemed to care.

Except for the Ichinen Trio, who had set up an abbatis of chairs and were throwing anything they could lay their hands on at anyone who dared approach, the boys were less creative with their surrounding arsenal, but they were more vicious. Tezuka-buchou and Sanada-san were wading through the opposition, their shoulders shoved up back-to-back. They cut a swathe through the chaos for the very few not inclined to fight could make good their escape. Small explosions marked Niou's and (oddly enough) Mizuki's positions on the field. Nobody wanted to fight Akutsu Jin or Akaya-kun: she could with difficulty make out strange areas in the throng where people bounced away from singular points like they were magnets of the same pole.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Akaya-kun was screaming, eyes bloody as he slammed another boy down to the ground into a _boca negra_. "You don't like the dessert? You think our cakes are too _easy to make?_ Maybe you'll like it more when I kick it up your ass!"

Ah, she thought in a strange, calm fog, Akaya-kun had really taken offense to their skill score. By this juncture several people had trampled over Sakuno's spine and legs. Pain exploded in her eyes and created hallucinations of purple griffons chirping like birds. She suddenly remembered a time when she was very young and her grandmother had taken her shell-hunting on the beach. She saw her tiny past self right in front of her, stooping to pick up a conch, only to have a crab reach out from its spiral and pinch her ear. But even with the pain clouding the memory she was certain that the crab had not next started waving its claws at her, crying out: "Ryuuzaki!"

Reality reasserted itself with a good shake of her head, just in time for her to see Ryoma-kun making his way towards her. "Ryuuzaki!" he shouted. "Get up!" Although he was still some distance away, her stretched out his hand to her.

Driven on by blood-lust and having done away with his last opponents Akaya-kun came roaring at him with a running tackle, and they went crashing clear across the room. She supposed it should have been distressing, but there was nothing for it except to keep on crawling.

As she moved along both Chotarou and Yuuta-kun tried to help her, and they both were sucker-punched by their current opponents, who like Akaya-kun had no sense of chivalry. When Yuuta went down, there was a terrible cry, made so alien by rage that she did not recognize it as Fuji-senpai's voice until she saw him rush to Yuuta's side. A wide swath of moaning, dazed bodies lay in his wake; through that break in the chaos one of the side emergency exits shone out as brightly as beacon in the night. Staggering to her feet, Sakuno made a mad dash towards it. A klaxon buzzed as soon as she burst through the door, but one more drop added to the flood of noise and riot would do no harm.

Distance meant safety, so she climbed up to the next floor in the stairwell. Positioning herself by the door in case anyone should follow, she sank down hard onto her rump. She wanted to fold her knees against her chest but could not; her legs, stiff as a doll's, stayed splayed out in front of her. She instead tried to think about her predicament and how to best get out of it. The best plan she could come up was really the worst, but it had to be done sometime. If she had to be killed today, she would rather it be at the hand of someone she loved.

"Grandma," she said once she had fetched her phone from her pocket, "I need a ride home. Can you please pick me up? I don't have any money on me and I'm too tired to get to bus station anyway."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Sakuno."

"I didn't! I didn't mean to do anything but there's been fighting and everything's a mess and I think I hurt my back and I hurt my fingers and _I_ _just want to go home, Grandma, please." _

"I'm coming. You stay right there, young lady, and don't budge a millimeter. Tell me where you are."  
When Sakuno named the venue, there was a deadly pause. Then, calm as ever, her grandmother continued. "All right. I'll be there very soon. And Sakuno? You're grounded forever."

"Oh, thank you!"

There was a another moment of silence as Sakuno happily hyperventilated into the phone, the solemn moment of reflection that losing generals gave their wounded and dead on the battlefield. "How bad is it?"

"It could be worse?"

"Have the police been called?"

"Maybe?"

"Lovely. I'm getting my keys now. Do not get arrested. Even I never got arrested, and I once hit a vice-principle in the groin with a softball. _Stay where you are._"

There the conversation ended, leaving Sakuno to tap out uncoordinated and uneven beats against the floor with her fingertips. The walls, doors and floors in this grand venue were thick; she heard nothing save muted but very normal ambient noises. Whether or not a special anti-riot police squad was coming, or if the fighting was extinguishing itself, or if every last single person had died by Fuji-senpai's hands—well, she was certainly not going to return down there to find out. She wasn't that stupid.

She was sure that years from now she still would look back on all this and not make heads or tails of it. If she had a time machine and a way of making them willing to talk after she had kidnapped them and locked them all in a room, she wanted to gather all of the greatest thinkers the world ever produced and make them come up with any reason why all of this hadn't been just a big, fat waste of her time.

The door on the level below creaked open. She pressed against the door, ready to try to bolt, but relaxed when only one halting set of footsteps started making their way upwards. She half-giggled, half-hiccuped as Atobe stiffly mounted the landing. He sank bonelessly next to her, his face still partially spattered with various foodstuffs, clothes that cost ten times as much as her own wrinkled and defiled. Somewhere surely an Italian designer was crying. Sakuno had no more anger or bitterness left in that moment—there was only a sense of satisfaction.

"That did not pan out exactly as I'd planned." He teased at a crusty curl in his hair, puffed away the flakes that came away on his fingertips. A good shampooing would clean out most of the gunk, she thought, and she told him so; he half-smiled at her with a glimmer of cheer. Reminded of her own state, Sakuno twisted off her hair-ties to do what damage control she could, but her fingers snagged in a matted forest of soy sauce and floor grit.

"Atobe-san, if you say I do have to cut off my hair because of this, I'll—I'll" She was so unused to making threats that nothing came to mind.

"Or you'll what? Tell your grandmother? Sic her on me? She'll have to take a number because the owner of this hotel and my parents get first crack. And I didn't cause everyone to turn into stark raving lunatics! I ran into that idiot Kaidoh when I was following you out and he tried to bite me! Poor Kabaji had his head shoved into one of the kitchen sinks and Shishido got a black eye trying to help him. Oshitari had the bad luck to be in that maniac Fuji's path and got kicked in between the legs so hard that he's regressed to pre-adolescence, and everything's a _damn mess. _Do you know how much the clean-up alone is going to cost me?_" _

The thought of someone having it worse off was oddly cheering, as if she had stepped out into warm sunlight. She erupted into a brief tittering fit; the thunderous glare he turned on her did nothing to quell her snickers. All that money—all that time and planning—!

"Poor Atobe-san! My luck finally brushed off on you, huh?" she asked, shoulder still shaking. His glower transmogrified into a gaze of sickened reverence in acknowledgment of this truth.

"I should send you to the offices of my family's rivals. You'd destroy them all just by walking through the halls, start a fire or something. How do your senpai do so well in their tournaments when _you_ hang around them all the time?"

"Not everyone can have bad luck in a match, Atobe-san. Someone has to lose."

"Well then, tell me: who the hell won here?"

"Hyotei did, of course."

"Then why are you here giggling at my misfortune when the Hyotei team's head chef was body-checked into a wall? By your sous-chef, no less! I saw it. Did you choose a team of utter psychopaths on purpose?"

"Taka-san gets...excited. And I didn't plan on putting anyone from Rikkai on my team. Sanada-san demanded it."

"That sly bastard!" Atobe dug the heel of his palm against his brow. "I should have known. I bet he and that damned Yukimura deliberately made sure that his two most juvenile, unhinged players wronged you on purpose during Tanabata so that they _had _to help you against Hyotei because Tezuka is also a sly bastard and he convinced them to help you because he's a true man's man and can't refuse to help even a little insignificant kouhai with ridiculous hair like you!"

"I'm sorry?" she offered. She had seen paintings and statues of starving ascetic monks that looked less despondent. It was a just another thing to endure until her Grandma whisked her away from this wretched place, but she was a better audience to take his venting of grievances than Tezuka-buchou or Rikkai and have truly bad blood rankle inter-school relationships for good.

As his eyes gleamed at the opportunity she had so stupidly left open, Sakuno could only bring to mind some homely country saying that her grandmother sometimes used in the face of a serious blunder: 'Oh, damn, our donkey's in a ditch.'

"Ah, an apology is it? Ore-sama accepts it. And so before Ore-sama throws himself to the wolves, we have to discuss the matter of your penance."

"For the love of—you can't be serious! After all that's happened! This isn't fair. You've never been fair with me! I've jumped through so many hoops for you already!" Because she didn't dare let her nails hit home and tear that businessman's flat disregard right off his face, she flailed at the empty space in between them. She clawed with such force that she nearly toppled over when she suddenly stopped. "Why should I even listen to you, anyway? I don't have to be here. My grandmother's coming soon, and she'll tear you to bits if she sees you. I'm leaving. Goodbye!"

She made to stand up. A sharp tug on her scalp stopped her halfway. Atobe had reached over and seized a thick length of her hair in both fists, enough of it that trying to wrench herself away would leave her half-bald if it was simply up to her neck strength.

"You don't get it. They're not going to let it go. I need _something _to put on the table so we can save face. The blame isn't all on us—did I or did I not last see your little lap-pitbull Niou shoving wasabi paste up Sengoku's nose? Trust me, please; think of something minor, some little symbol I can bring back to my people. Or else I promise you, they will not stop trying to get at you, no matter what I say."

The way he weighed her half-formed braid in his hand like it was worth something would have let him blend in among the middle-aged ladies she saw at the vegetable market. He was inexorable. It awed her, in a sick kind of fashion, how masterfully he cornered her into a negotiation, roughed up and exhausted as they both were. Sakuno tugged her hair out of his grasp, beyond any screaming fits and attempts at strangling, focusing her thoughts on what would appease these people. "You're not going to get me to cut my hair, Atobe-san."

"With all this gunk in it? Please. A fox's tail is only beautiful when it's untarnished and well-kept; your hair wouldn't fetch ten yen. No, I need something worthwhile."

She would give up working the booth. They had wanted to kick her out anyway, and with summer vacation done it would be open only on the weekends. Taka-san could man it without any problems. It was the best card in her hand. This was the bitter end. It was going to be hard, telling everyone who had placed their misbegotten hope in her success and who had struggled so hard to help her prevent this singular outcome that she was folding, but that was the game. She just had the dumb luck to go against true winners—just look at how Atobe-san, just as exhausted as she was, had wrangled her so masterfully! That was a winner. Tezuka-buchou and Ryoma-kun were winners. And she—she had asked the person with the least number of wins from the Seigaku boys' middle-school team, a delinquent who hadn't been able to beat Fuji-senpai in all these years since their first big match, another delinquent whose much-vaunted tricky tennis couldn't get him a regular place in the Nationals (proving some cheating truly did not pay) to be on her team! What had she been thinking, asking Tomo-chan and Ann-chan to be on such a team?

The puckered lips and drawn eyebrows brought on by these musings did not lead Atobe to any good conclusions. "Come on, Ryuuzaki. Ore-sama knows it's hard for you, but if you won't think of something then Ore-sama may just have to ask for that hair after all."

"Will you promise, _promise _that I'll be left _alone_ after this?"

"Of course."

"I mean it. No more calls, no more messing up the booth, no more challenges. If you have any more trouble with my school, it's still because you can't beat Ryoma-kun in a fair match and not because of any fault of mine, got it?"

"That's acceptable," he said slowly, scowling at her. He didn't need to be so hostile. Compared to what the pound of pride she was giving away, a trim here or there at his own still left him on top. Only the worst deals left the loser with nothing, and she was not as bad at bargaining as that.

"And you'll never touch any of my food again. Ever! My food will never be for you."

"Only if you never bring that up again. Ore-sama has already apologized. You're not getting a second one."

"Fine."

They shook hands. She had crawled over a food-spattered floor and someone (Marui-kun?) had apparently spat gum into Atobe's hands during a scuffle; their hands parted after ten seconds with a crackle. They were both too filthy to care about one more germ exchange.

As they waited for the inevitable moment when they could no longer stay here, Sakuno looked at his shoulders and saw they were lower than hers. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady but shallow, as if he were trying to go into some kind of meditative state but unable to do so. He had pounced to his full advantage, but he didn't act like a winner; whereas she was finding that breaking bad news to her friends did not seem so bad. It was a great disappointment, but she was used to that.

"You're really in trouble, aren't you?" she asked him. There was also a piece of gum in a lock of hair, just above his ear. She was used to that as well, so she reached up and began trying to gently tease pieces out as best she could. He would have to get some of it trimmed, but the damage might be minimized.

"What, you thought I was joking before? When I die, this will be one of the highlights mentioned in my obituary. I'm going to be making lots of calls and spending lots of money for a while. And your grandmother is probably going to murder me." He began picking grit out of her braid before he took out a miraculously unsoiled handkerchief and wiping off her burned hand with it. "You should get that cleaned as soon as you can, Ryuuzaki."

"I will. You know, I didn't think you had so much riding on this, Atobe-san."

"That's because you're a bit dumb. No offense, but it's true. I'm just amazed that even though you're hardly the brightest opponent I've had, you've still given me the runaround like no other. Congratulations."

As the gum she had managed to tease out was flicked away, she took a closer look at his hunched posture, the hard angles of his face. Her arm hooked through his unbidden, breaking his no-doubt bitter thoughts.

"Well, you are smarter than I am, so maybe you can tell me: are we supposed to get anything from this? Adults always say that experience is the best teacher, but I don't know what the heck I'm supposed to have learned from this."

Atobe gave her hand a single pat. "Who's to say? All I know is that I'm going to be up all night making phone calls and emptying a bank account or two while you get to go home, clean up, and get a nice sleep while enjoying a nice, peaceful house arrest with no social obligations. I say you came out ahead."

They spent a few more minutes in the stairwell, speaking no more words, preoccupied with their own plans, trying not to entertain the notion that possibly, just possibly there are no winners.

If anyone asked her, in life everything's a sucker bet.


	14. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

While the cicadas buzzed in the trees at sunset during the Obon festival, their droning dulling her head already heavy after a day of cooking, feasting, and serving food, Sakuno swore she would close her eyes against any further demands for a last helpings of dessert. She would let them serve themselves from now on; all there was to do was snuggle up against her Grandma's thigh and rest until the fireworks started.

"Oi, oi, Sakuno-chan! More, please? Please?" Kintarou-kun. His whines grew closer and the cloth picnic blanket underneath her legs vibrated with his bounces.

"Kintarou, go away. Get seconds yourself."

Her Grandma gave voice to both their sentiments; they had both been run ragged playing hostesses to the regulars' teams of no less than six high schools (plus Kintarou, who, when Sakuno had casually told him about the Obon festival plans, had simply invited himself along). It had been the fruit of nearly a month of planning and meeting the various demands of the teams so that all could express this party's theme of 'reconciliation and goodwill' to their satisfaction. For Sakuno, who had taken the responsibility of designing the menu with Taka-san and Tomo-chan and creating all the baked goods herself, this had entailed making six great cakes, layer cakes which were to display each school's colors and symbols. Atobe-san had wanted the biggest cake for Hyotei, naturally, and he wanted a Hyotei crest made with real gold embedded in the top layer; then Mizuki-san wanted an even bigger cake with real diamonds sprinkled at the base of each tier. For such otherwise intelligent people, Sakuno doubted whether either of them had the firmest grasp on what 'reconciliation' really meant.

And now she had spent the whole day at the great Obon festival, catering both lunch and supper while the teams had exhibition tournaments and everyone else went to the booths or played games. She had managed to sneak away with Tomo-chan and Ann-chan for a couple of karaoke songs, but there had not been a single moment of peace otherwise until the teams and hosts had retired to their assigned picnic grounds right next to the courts. Dusk was nearly settling upon them but the matches between teams were still going strong. It had been easier when there had been only Ryoma-kun to root for; she'd tried to give a cheer for or wave at all of her new friends when they played, but it was so hard to make sure each player got equal treatment. Ryoma-kun and Tomo-chan in particular scowled to themselves if she gave one single "FIGHTO" not directed at them. Niou gave her the finger when she booed him as a joke. Sanada-san had tried to slap him, but her grandmother beat him to it. Anybody who thought that no one could hit harder than Sanada was proved horribly wrong.

The light was so beery, the fireworks so near that the last match, between the Fuji brothers, was nearing its end. No special techniques were being used now, so the cracking of the ball against the court achieved a hypnotic rhythm, back and forth across the net. It enhanced her comfort, helping Sakuno loll off into a nice warm cocoon of semi-consciousness.

Someone landed next to her, making her legs bounce, and her knees were jostled.

"Ne, ne, Sakuno-chan, did you see me and Koshimae play today? Which of us do you think is better?" Bounce, bounce, bounce. Sakuno regretted not putting limits on how many desserts the guests could eat—Kintarou was doped up on cupcakes and sweet bean paste. "Ne! Sakuno-chan! The fireworks are gonna start soon. Watch them with me and Koshimae!"

She was doing a fine job of pretending to nap until there was a yelp of unfeigned pain. Her eyes opened in time to catch Akaya-kun seize the younger boy by his ruddy mop of hair and send him sprawling. "Beat it, kid. You're bothering her." His scowl flourished into an insouciant grin-and-wink combo as he sat down next to her, boldly ignorant of her grandmother's scrutiny. "Mind if I sit here, Saku-bunny?"

"No! You can't! Only Koshimae can sit there!"

"I wasn't asking you, dumbass."

"Kirihara!" Her grandmother's voice had gone raw-edged from barking so many orders and demands for good behavior. The team captains and vice-captains had done their best to shoulder the burden 8fromtheir hostesses by doing a fair of shouting, but Grandma had never liked to delegate much. And without the structured atmosphere of a tournament or training camp, discipline got thrown out the window. Almost all of the redheads were acting like loons, Tomo-chan and Ann-chan were bossing everyone around, and the ostensibly friendly tennis had the air of grudge-matches from time to time—Akustu and Hiyoshi, for instance, nearly came to blows earlier over some martial arts boasting nonsense and Sengoku had given Shishido a black eye in the fog of war that had engulfed the crowd at the cooking competition (hadn't she seen him? He'd held up a sign and waved at her and everything!).

Such tensions had been foreseen, of course. The working theory was that the food and informal matches would take the edge off everyone's lingering aggression, softening hard feelings in time for the high tournament season. It did not hurt that her grandmother had authorized Oishi, whose main job today was to bustle about to make sure everyone wasn't going to kill each other and to chase off any uninvited guests (i.e., fan stalkers), to use measure of bribery to help things along. Once Sengoku had received the numbers of several eligible and willing Seigaku girls, provided by Tomo-chan, he acted like Jin was his brother from another mother. Oishi had nearly died when he actually took a close look at the papers he was to hand over, but prudishness did not win any friends and he'd done his boggle-eyed, red-faced duty.

So many players had challenged him that he hadn't had much time to rest or eat, but when he did have a break between matches Ryoma-kun had settled himself not too far away from her and her grandmother on the blanket's corner. "You both need to be quiet. I'm trying to eat."

"Oh! Did you try all of that yummy yakiniku, Koshimae? What did you have? It was all so good."

Sadly, hearing that from anyone else those words might have meant something special. Maybe that was why she and Kintarou got on so well. He had a lot of to spread around, and apparently so did she. Maybe they could start a food-slut club together, just the two of them. She would do all the cooking and he'd do all the eating and they could live in sinful completion.

She had been so intent on ignoring everyone that her grandmother's small pat completely blindsided her. "Isn't that right, honey?"

"What, Grandma?"

"Yukimura-kun here has been telling me about the coaches' arrangements for this year's invitational camp. I've already heard that the Kawamuras have agreed to cater the food. But Mr. Kawamura said that he won't be on-site very often. He also said he's not making up the menu, and neither is Taka-san. Who does that leave, hmmm?"

"Grandma! That was supposed to be a surprise."

She could hear Yukimura-san laughing at her. "I don't think anyone is going to be surprised. But I know that my team will be very happy to have our food in your hands."

It was probably gauche to mention that Mr. Kawamura had given her the assignment not only to see how far she had progressed in her apprenticeship, but too punish her a bit as well. He had not been unkind about it, but being bullied and making side-bets that directly interfered with the restaurant's schedule in any way without telling the boss was generally not taken well by most managers. She'd been lucky to keep her apprenticeship. "If you're so crazy about those tennis teams like Taka was, then you can feed them for a week," he'd said to her, eyes glinting. The task had given her some terrific flashbacks and nightmares for a couple of days; no one needed to know that either. Seeing everyone at this gathering refraining from killing each other heartened her, so she could try to make a joke of it. She turned her head and mirrored Yukimura's disingenuous smile.

"Are you kidding? Why do you think I agreed to do all of this work and help make this such a big party? If I'm going to be feeding you foodies at the invitational camp, I need to practice. I need to get all of your tastes down. I'm pretty sure I know what Rikkai likes now, though, so you'll be easy to do."

"Ooh! What's this about food and invitational camps?" Her legs got wiggled again. She should have known. Ryoma-kun wasn't the best conversational partner and Kintarou-kun did have ears like a bat for certain topics. "You're going to be cooking for everyone there? Every day?"

"Yes, Kintarou-kun."

"What a big job! But you could do it, Sakuno-chan. You could feed them all on onigiri and noodles and everyone could eat your evening dessert under the stars!"

"I don't know if we're going to eat outside much," she began, but he steamrolled onward.

"Man, if only you had one of those all-in-one flash-fryer/double-boiler/atomic clock/julienne fry- maker doodads installed in the kitchens there. That'd probably make things easier for you. Maybe you can ask Atobe to get one."

"I wish I could. I doubt he'll spring for it," she said, an ache worming its way through the core of contentment in her heart. That dream was still so far off. There were so many dreams so far off: a all-in-one flash-fryer/double-boiler/atomic clock/julienne fry maker, her own restaurant, some lasting peace and quiet. Ann-chan told her that if she'd had any brains, she should hold the whole cooking tournament fiasco over Atobe's head and make him _buy_ her a restaurant. Sakuno had responded by asking whether or not any of the deals she'd struck with Atobe had ended up without some disaster. Faust had come out better than she did.

"Hey, if Koshimae and everyone else here is gonna be at the camp, will Shitenhouji get to go too?" His hopeful smile was met with dubious frowns all around, so he returned his buttery-eyed gaze to her, and Sakuno only shrugged.

"I don't know, Kintarou-kun. Your school's in the Western block of teams and it's so far away-"

"Don't count on it," Ryoma grunted. Kintarou's spontaneous tears were dammed up by a surge of defiance.

"Then we'll sneak in! Shiraishi-buchou can do anything."

"No, you won't. We'll be watching for you and kick you out."

"Oi, Sakuno-chan! Where are the rest of the bento boxes? I can't find them."

"As you know, Ryuuzaki, Ore-sama and the other team captains will have to finalize your menu choices for the invitational camp, so you must submit your recipes soon. And remember, they will be meals for athletes, so they must be nutritious. The desserts too. No added sugar or fats; stick to fruits if you can."

"Marui-kun can't function on that kind of diet, Atobe-san. You know that," Sakuno replied lightly, the truth of the protest bolstered by Sanada-san's grunt. She did not need to crack open her eye the tiniest bit to know that the Atobe's reaction would be a brief flaring of the nostrils and a contemptuous upward tilt of the chin towards Marui-kun.

"Then make cakes and cookies and whatnot for the sugar-beast, but only for him. _My_ team doesn't need hyper-metabolic doping to play at their best."

"I want sweet whatnots, too, Atobe," sang out Oshitari.

"Yeah! Two desserts a day, for lunch and supper! That's only fair! Tezuka-buchou, don't you want it to be fair, nyah? Tezuuuuuka-buchoooou!"

Snapping gum and a laugh nearby. "Oh, please, you losers can't train properly with two desserts a day like I can. You'd only get fat—fatter than you already are, Eiji-fatass. Besides, Sakuno-chan likes making desserts for me best because nobody appreciates her delicious sweets more than me. We'll be wed someday, you know."

"Yeah, when her grandmother _dies_." Niou, and no follow-up slap. Sanada-san must be somewhere else. Her grandmother touched her forehead gently and, with that signal, they reached for the nearest pieces of food and flung them at his head. Nanjiroh-san had been good practice.

"Sakuno, when'm gone, ya won't inherit a single yen if you marry tha' boy. And remind me to spit in that Niou's food when he goes to the bathroom. Heh."

"Yes, Grandma."

The soft cushion beneath her cheek shifted as her grandmother reclined further back, arms behind her head. Getting buzzed always oiled those aged joints, and when there was not a crack to be heard as all the old bones moved then Grandma was well on her way to a brief but unroustable sleep, a sleep so powerful that Sakuno had called the police three times in the last year until she finally could recognize the difference between a good nap and a coma.

"Yes, Grandma."

"Saku-bunny! Are you free this weekend? Buchou and fukubuchou never come, but the rest of us guys are coming up to try the new arcade games here. You guys in Tokyo have it so good, you get more cool things earlier...But do you want to join us? You can even bring your evil friends with you. It'd be fun. Do you like dancing games? Fighting games?"

"For the last time, leave her alone. Why can't any of you idiots see that she's not paying any attention to you?"

Bless Ryoma-kun; he seemed to be the only one who understood the bliss of a good rest after much work. His chiding bought her around three seconds of peace, not one word assaulting her as she turned a little bit more on her right side, nuzzling her face deeper against her grandmother's lap. The sake had knocked Grandma into snoring oblivion. If only there had been more of it left in the bottle—she could have sneaked off the rest and not wake up until sunrise.

"Saku-chan! I asked where the bento were!" Tomo-chan was shouting from the other side of the picnic spread. Ann-chan (standing less than half a meter away) screamed the answer back, saving Sakuno the trouble.

"What do you mean, only one dessert per day, buchou? Unfair! You're horrible! Nyah!"

"Ryuuzaki! Why is the St. Rudolph's cake smaller than the other ones? Why is my school always the victim of such prejudice?" Mizuki-san. She kept her eyes closed.

"Just let it go, sempai." Yuuta-kun. The match must have ended; right on time, too.

"Yuuta's right, whatever your name is. At least the piping on the icing isn't as shoddy as it is on the Hyotei cake." Fuji-senpai was a sneak and a blabbermouth and he was no longer one of her favorites.

"What? What is this? Ryuuzaki, explain!"

"Explain why your voice gives me a headache, Monkey King."

"Echizen, I will smash you!"

"Hey, Aka-chan! One of the new arcade games is about zombies. Ask Sakuno-chan if she likes zombies!"

The fireworks began. Their shrieking and popping got her to thinking. Perhaps next summer she would spend her day someplace quieter, someplace less exhausting.

Someplace like Beirut.

NEVER THE END


End file.
